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velvetydream · 3 months

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꒰ :🥀 [ The radio star lost ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : Your husband was the feared serial criminal in New Orleans, Louisiana, and you where his dearly beloved wife, his right hand. So.. Oh what a despair was awaiting you soon..

Pairing : Human! Alastor x Wife! Reader

Word count : 3549 Words

Genre : Angst, Drama, Romance (a bit)

Warnings ➵ Murder, Swearing, Blood, Death, Guns,

Death penality, Corpses

a/n : Continuation of my Alastor x Wife! Reader > Till death do us part < , seeing as this isn't really a continuation, but rather a prequel, it can be read as a stand-alone, hope ya'll still enjoy it just as much as the first part!♡

Another thing in advance, this is purely fiction and shall not be seen anywhere near reality, I do not condone anything in this and it's pureply based on fiction.

┌───────────────────────── · · · · ♡

1933'

You were like Bonnie and Clyde. A criminal duo, invincible. Or so you thought.

Alastor, your beloved husband. The man you had known for almost two decades, married for almost one decade now. You loved him dearly, even with his little quirks and tendencies. He worked as a well-known and quite popular radio host in New Orleans. Yet he had a tendency for disposing of those he deemed right, you had helped him many times already. Having found out way before you even married him, how he was a murderer, yet you found it enticing, how his mind worked, who he deemed worthy to let go.

"Dear, the meal is almost ready!" You got pulled out of your thoughts by the soft voice of your husband. It was rather unusual for the man to cook in a marriage, but your relationship was far from ordinary, so you enjoyed it. His cooking was far better than yours after all. "I'm coming!" Standing up from the couch, you make your way over to the kitchen, there he was in all his glory. His brown hair was pushed back, glasses sitting on top of his head instead of resting on his nose, and sleeves pushed up to not get them dirty, ironic considering the amount of times he got them bloody. "It smells amazing my beloved! Thank you so much!" A quick peck was pressed to your husband's cheek, as you took a seat at the table, some amazing meal steaming on the table. Alastor puts his apron away, sitting down as he slides his glasses back onto his nose.

Dinner time was always one of your favorites during the day, enjoying a warm meal while talking to your husband about both of your days.

Just after you had finished dinner, your husband took a seat in front of the piano, letting his hands softly glide over the tiles. The instrument echoed with the soft tune he was playing. Walking behind him, you lay your arms around his neck softly, swaying your body a bit to the music he played. Alastor was a talented man with instruments, being able to play a few of them, the piano being one of them. Also quite talented with the violin. "Oh my darling, what a beautiful tune as always~" Humming along now. No one heard the screams coming from the basement. The desperate screams of your next victim.

"When we're talking about music right now my dearest, Mimzy invited us to her performance tomorrow! So how about we postpone our.. plans to the day after tomorrow?" No killing and instead going to Mimzy's show? Oh yes! "Oh, how lovely that sounds! Of course!" Agreeing to his proposal. But for now, you two get ready for bed, lying down in your shared bed.

Another one of your favorite times of the day, getting to lay down with him and finally rest, letting the stress and exhaustion of the day pass. "Did I ever tell you that I love you a lot?" Resting your head on your husband's chest now, who was silently reading a book, closing it now that you were talking to him. "Many times darling and I do love you a lot too~" Alastor knew his way around words for sure, he was such a sweet talker, but that's one of the things you appreciated about him. Raising your head to face him, you take a glance at his lips, before up into his eyes, you knew how he felt about touches he didn't initiate, right now you were only cuddling because he pulled you onto him. Chuckling lowly, he lowers his head down and captures your soft lips with his. Alastor's kisses mostly were soft, like a butterfly resting on your hand or like a spring breeze. Usually, his kisses were planted on your hand or cheek, but from now and then he gave you the satisfaction of a soft kiss on the lips, which always left you giggling like you were right now. Falling asleep in the safe embrace of your husband shortly after.

The next day went by smoothly. Alastor was busy with his work as a radio host, while you took care of the house and did some grocery shopping, meeting up with a few friends of yours over tea. Shortly before you went home for the day, you visited Alastors mothers grave to leave some flowers and clean it, you sadly never met her, but your husband tends to tell you a lot of stories about her. Sitting down by the grave for a minute, you tell her a bit about what Alastor has been doing, how you were loving his cooking and music as always. It was a habit of yours, you hoped she was listening to all the good things you were telling her about him. Taking your things after a while, you bid your goodbye to his mother's grave as you make your way back home. Putting away the groceries before starting to freshen up. Loving to take your time to get ready when you and Alastor decide to go out in the evening.

"Dearest I'm home!" Hearing the lovely voice of your husband calling from the door, answering him now, how you were getting ready. Putting on your favorite dress. It was made out of a beautiful deep red color with black lace all over it, a few gems here and there. Your best jewelry could of course not be missing, most of it you got from Alastor or your own mother. "Darling I'm ready! How far are you?" Exiting the bathroom now, searching for your husband and finding him in the kitchen with a glass of whisky. "Oh my, what do I see here? What a lovely gem you are darling!" Abandoning his glass, Alastor walks over to you, taking your hand as he twirls you around, before kissing the back of your hand. Clad in a black suit, his button-up shirt underneath dark red matching to your dress, while his bowtie was adorned with a red gem, he looked lovely. "My you also look lovely dearest! Definitely going to catch some eyes!" Hooking your arm in his now, you together leave the house and make your way to where Mimzy's show will be held.

Mimzy was a great friend of Alastor, a blonde gorgeous but short lady, who performed like no other. Arriving at the place, you were led to a table for the regulars, as Alastor and you were known by the staff by now. Ordering two drinks, as you await the show. Soon lights go out and Mimzy comes out, her singing and dancing amazing like always.

"Dollface! Pumpkin!" Mimzy's voice was booming as she approached your table, giving both of you an affectionate hug. You ended up talking with her for quite a while, telling her how amazing her performance was and that you were so glad that she invited you two again. Thanking you for your kind words, her attention quickly diverted to Alastor again. It was almost always like this, she said she liked both of you, but you couldn't shake the feeling that she did have a certain distaste for you. But you decided to let it slide like always, as you listened to Alastor tell Mimzy what you two were up to since you've last seen her.

Alastor of course started to notice how you were getting irritated by Mimzy and how she was only focusing on him. "My dear, I think my lovely wife is not feeling so well tonight, perhaps it would be better to take our leave now, still thank you for having us as always. Till the next time." Alastor stood up now as Mimzy stomped off with an annoyed face, extending his hand for you. Smiling at him softly as you take his hand and let him lead you outside. A shiver ran down your spine as your arms got goosebumps, a coat was soon placed over your shoulders, looking over to Alastor who watched you with a soft smile. "Dear, next time you feel uncomfortable please do tell me and we will leave immediately, you know how much I care for your comfort." Thanking him, you take his arm as he leads you through the park to your home, it was a little longer than walking through the streets, but it was calming to walk through nature together.

"Shall we head to bed? It's been a long day and evening." Taking the coat from your shoulders at home, he hangs it on the hanger beside the door. "I love that idea, let me tell you about my day in bed, I visited your mothers grave again." You were already walking to the room as you talked to him, so you weren't able to see his eyes follow you as they softened. It saddened him you never got to meet his mother, she would've loved you dearly, just as he does. Telling him all about what you told her before, how you left flowers and also cleaned her gravestone, as you settled into bed, as he was changing into his sleepwear. Alastor was so thankful for having a caring and lovely wife like you.

The night went by fast, today Alastor would finally have a day off from work, which meant a different kind of work today for both of you!

The steps down to the basement squeaked as Alastor put his weight on them, your heels making clicky noises as you followed him down a stark contrast in sound. And there sat the victim he deemed perfect for his next case. The screams would be recorded for his personal little collection. You were getting everything ready for him, it would be interesting to watch like always. Alastor changed so much when he killed, no shimmer or glimmer in his eyes, not how he looked at you, the soft gaze replaced with a blood thirsty one. Liking it quickly, you were soon getting rid of the victim, this time deciding to bury him in a forest, you opted for the forest a few times already even though it was a bit risky, it was the easiest to get rid of them. At home, Alastor decided to take a bath, as he told you to head to bed already with a kiss on your cheek.

When he joined you in bed, he looked relaxed, cuddling up to you. Murders always ended like this, it somehow made him so calm and affectionate with you. Placing a soft kiss on your neck, as his arms hold your waist. Your hand threaded through his brown soft locks, something you loved to do. For once your beloved husband fell asleep quicker than you, making you be able to watch him sleep, not in a creepy way, but in a loving way. Alastor was often so stressed with work, yes he loved being a radio host, but it sometimes got to him. Rubbing your fingers over his cheek softly, then over the bags under his eyes before pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. Yourself slowly falling into dreamland.

Morning came way too quickly, Alastor was back to work, and while you decided to stay at home and do some housekeeping, a few rooms needed cleaning. A friend of yours stopping by to tell you how a new corpse was apparently discovered by the police, which is connected to the many murder cases lately. Tensing up a little bit when she told you how they discovered it in the forest after one of the farmers nearby saw some shadows in there. It couldn't be the corpse from last night, right? Simply agreeing with her that you would be careful, even telling her how your dear husband would never let something happen to you on his watch, which made her coo at your marriage, if only she knew..

Mid conversation your husband comes home, greeting you with a soft kiss on the cheek before he leaves for the back of your home. Your friend leaves soon after, as you go and search for your beloved. Finding him in his office, gripping the table. You knew what was about to come.

"Dear?" Approaching him, Alastor pushes everything on his table off, papers scattering, a cup breaking as pens roll all over the floor. "They already discovered it.. HOW?! I was careful! Pathetic! How dare they! Are they making fun of me?!" Worried for your husband, yet you stood still, listening to him. "I had to talk about it today! At the broadcast! Act as if I was surprised! Haha! If only they knew! Right doll?!" Turning around, his eyes were darting around the room, before falling onto you, laughing as he took your hand to pull you in. "They really think they can discover us like this! US! They are worthless! Pathetic even! Oh my dear! We truly are the greatest!" He was twirling you around as if dancing now, despite no music playing. Only his mad monologue. You've dealt with this behavior a couple of times already, knowing to just let him act and talk for now as he pleased. "Oh, what a wonderful day my beloved! I will go and make my favorite dish for us now! How beautiful!" Leaving the room now, a skip in his step, as you bend down to clean up the mess your husband caused.

Joining him in the kitchen now, as he was softly humming to the radio as he was cooking his favorite, Jambalaya.

A knocking sounds from your door, looking up, you tell Alastor you are going to get it, and upon opening it you come face to face with a detective and a police officer. "Greetings ma'am, is your husband home?" His voice was deep, you nodded, leaning the door closed as you hurried into the kitchen to get your husband. "Greetings gentleman, how may I help you?" Alastor opened the door composed as ever, drying his hands from washing them with a clean towel, as he gave the men at the door a polite smile. You retreated back to the living room, still listening to their conversation. Asking him about the murder cases, why him? It was probably only because of the radio broadcast, right? Maybe his boss told him to talk about it without the detective's permission. As the door closes and Alastor is back in the kitchen, still calm as always as you join him. "Dear? What did they talk about?" Looking up at him with worry written all over your face, he turns to you. "Don't worry your pretty little head dearest, it was nothing to be mentioned! Smile dear, you know you're never fully dressed without one!" Pushing the corners of your mouth up with his fingers now, making you smile, before shushing you out of the kitchen so he can cook. Not able to help it but worry, were you about to be figured out?

But over the course of the next few days it all calmed down again, no more police officers or detectives visiting you, which finally calmed your mind. Alastor meanwhile had found a new target, telling you about this man he met the other day and what bothered him. It was all back to normal now, which you were glad about. Till this one dreadful day.

Alastor and you made quick work of the man, your husband telling you to stay home this time to clean up and that he would take care of this on his own. You worried again, but he assured you that he would be quick, after cleaning up and getting rid of any evidence, you cleaned yourself and sat down to wait for your beloved. Yet after hours of not coming back, you grew anxious, desperate even to know what took him so long. As a knock echoes through your house, you rush to the door, opening it ready to scold your husband for taking so long, but your breath stops when a detective stands in front of you.. What happened?

He asked to enter your home, sitting you down on the couch as he took a seat opposite of you on the armchair. "Your husband got shot ma'am, he was burying a corpse, we assume him to be the serial killer at fault for so many murders lately. He passed away instantly, I'm sorry for your loss and to bring you this horrific and murderous news." Your ears were ringing. Huh? Shot? Was that man joking with you? Was he someone Alastor paid to prank you? No, he wasn't the type for these kinds of pranks. Tears were streaming down your face, burying it in your hands now, sobs shaking your whole body. If that stupid man just knew, knew how you helped your husband with everything! Stupid! "Ma'am I-" The detective started, when you darted up, grabbing the man by his hair and throwing him out of your house. "Get lost! Never show up again! Leave.. NOW!" Slamming the door shut now, he probably took this as a shock to knowing who your husband really was, but you knew that already for years. Sinking to your knees, your arms hug around you as your head hits the floor, screams and cries of agony echo through the now empty halls. Your husband, the man you loved so much was dead, just like this? What sick nightmare was this? Cries reduced to soft sobs when your throat started to hurt, by now your body was curled up into itself on the floor and like that, you fell asleep.

The next day you awoke to the sunlight, your body sore from crying and sleeping on the floor, looking around for a second, for Alastor before it doomed on you, he was dead. Shot like an animal.

Your mother accompanied you to identify your late husband, you of course clad in all black. His forehead is now adorned with a hole, the detective explaining to you that he was mistaken for a deer. Asking for some privacy from everyone, you were left alone in the room. If it wasn't for that damned hole he looked like he was simply sleeping, peacefully like the night before. Leaning down to press one last kiss to his temple. "I will always love you my dearest, for now and forever, till I join you in death."

Leaving the room, you didn't dare look back, you were going forward from now on, knowing that someday you would meet him again.

Your mother had offered for you to move back in with her, but you told her despite what he did, he was a lovely husband to you and that you weren't able to yet let go, which she understood. Back at your home, you sat down and just stared at the wall. Why did this have to happen? You could be cuddling together right now or enjoying a meal, but that would never be the case ever again. But you told yourself, swore yourself with that last kiss to his temple that you would carry on in his memory. And so you did, three more murders continued after your husband was dead, till you were discovered.

In front of the law, you were sentenced to the death due to having caused three murders yourself and helped with multiple, carried out by your late husband. You accepted it, not that anyone asked, but you would be seeing your husband again, at least you hoped you would. A few days later after the case was closed and you were sentenced, it happened.

1935'

"Alastor! Dearest! Charlie told me you wanted to see me?" Entering the radio tower with a bright smile, Alastor turned to you with his signature smile. "My beloved! You look lovely as always! Look at you, aren't you a little gem!" He was walking over to you, his red ears on his head bouncing slightly with each step he took. Closing your eyes now as he told you to do so, a sensation of something cold around your neck running through your body now. "Open up doll!" Opening your eyes and looking down, your eyes tear up. It was a necklace, that looked similar to one he gifted you on the first anniversary of your marriage. "Alastor.." Looking up at him, as a few tears escaped your eyes.

"Now now sweetheart, we don't want you crying hm? Smile dear! You know you're never fully dressed without one!" Giggling a little bit at that quote, he had used it so often when you two were alive. Not being able to help yourself, you throw your arms around his neck and pepper kisses all around his face and lastly a big kiss on his lips, you would be apologizing for suddenly kissing him later, but right now you just needed to kiss him. "I'm glad you love it dearest!" His arms are around your waist now as he laughs at the tickling kisses placed on his face, starting to spin you around as with a snip of his fingers music starts to play.

Charlie and Vaggie watch the soft moment from the door, tears streaming from the blonde's face as her girlfriend pulls her away to give you two some privacy.

#hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor

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kyumisyumi · 4 months

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Tentacles and Tendrils

Shaking off the rust and giving monster smut(writing in general) a shot again.

Prompt: monster partner is in rut/heat and the partner has to deal with it

Rating: 18+

Monster type: M!Merfolk x F!Reader

Word count: 6k

~Taking requests~

You stare out at the unending, blue horizon. The cool ocean breeze preparing you for the temperatures of its water as you linger along the edge. You wore the company certified diving gear: a wetsuit, mask, BCD, the works. A spear weighed down one hand while a cylindrical container weighed on your shoulder. Hope and pessimism fought to be at the forefront of your mind as you scan the empty waters with heavy disappointment. This area was always relatively vacant, but not too far off you can spot a duo entering the water with matching gear. Their actions take you out of your haze, and with another gauge check you finally approach the water. Getting a feel for the sea's surge, you make your way in. And with practiced hands you slipped on your fins before turning to greet the seas with outstretched arms.

Beneath the blue your body instantly goes into autopilot. Swimming was as natural as walking and these seas might as well have been a second home; a wayward beauty that will switch it's mood at a moments notice but home nonetheless. You took it all in, familiar as it may be, the ocean never stopped being a sight to behold. A world beneath our own full of wonderful blues, outstretched greens and terrifying blacks. The current had a bit of force behind it but nothing near the cruelty you knew any large body of water could deal. Your darting eyes couldn't help but search around, scanning everywhere for even just a hint of... There! You moved with haste. As much as you could as a land dwelling animal in aquatic terrain. You didn't get far before the shape you eagerly chased revealed itself to be just a particularly thick and unruly swatch of seaweed. You sigh internally before resolving to begin your original task.

Nearing a gorgeous station of coral, you couldn't help but linger and watch the busyness. Schools of varicolored, itty bitty fish swimming through the equally colorful pseudo-flora. Despite your love for marine life, you never quite learnt the names of all the little guys much less how to differentiate between them, say for a handful that stick out. Your interest was usually for the larger lifeforms mother nature had to offer; you smiled as you watched a wary grey eel eye you with suspicion. Soon your eyes fell upon your reason for being here. It's bright red colors were slightly muted by the depths, with white tiger stripes outlined by black to break up the pattern. Its form was lined with spines and frills that flowed and fluttered with each graceful swish of it's body; an absolutely gorgeous creature. You readied your spear. The black strap trigger pressed into your skin as you carefully aimed, hoping not to hit anything but the target. It helped that the lionfish lingered in one spot before you speared it. You moved to put it in the container before opting to offer it to the eel you saw earlier. As gorgeous - and delicious - as they were, these guys were invasive here and the effects of their persistence was a constant strain to the native wildlife. They seemed highly concentrated around this sandy patch of substrate, driftwood and dead coral. It didn't take long after the first few kills for one of your friends to make their way over. Gently, you caressed the top of the nurse shark eyeing your spare eagerly, this one you named Lisa... or maybe it was Madeline. It was no surprise your face blindness extended to animals as well, even the cute ones that made your dives feel a little less lonely. The creature began gliding and swirling around you. You liked to believe the fondness was mutual but it was equally likely they were just in it for a meal. You speared another lionfish and offered it to the grey and white cutie.

The spot you were in. The shark. The scenario. It brought back the memory of the first time you saw him.

Back then you were collecting lionfish, same as now with a duo of nurse sharks tailing your every movement. At the time you were overly cautious, so you'd sit in one place, removing the venomous spines of the fish before handing them over. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, he'd been there for quite a while, watching you. From his position partially behind the rocks, you'd think he was hiding -or rather, on the defensive- but you just can't imagine something that big and powerful hiding from tiny 'ol you. Yes you had a spear but you doubt it would do you much good if he decided to attack. Merfolk. Given your job at the Aquatic Wildlife Center you were relatively familiar with them. Your company was more than welcoming when programs were made for them- as well as the other species- who showed interest in coexisting during the realm migration. The Merfolk you were familiar with, however, had to undergo numerous lessons on etiquette and culture to live among humans. The one near you now... The word 'feral' came to mind. You didn't quite like using such an animalistic term towards something that looked a little too human, someone that you knew had equivalent intelligence. His skin was primarily muted greens with a burst of parchment white down his chest and undersides of his arms. Unlike the fish tails merfolk were known for, this one's body ended in a myriad of tentacles, not unlike an octopus. Height wasn't exactly something you could measure but in terms of body mass he was more than twice your own. He seemed to tense any time you held direct eye contact so you settled on keeping him in your peripheral and keeping your movements slow and measured. You're not sure what he wanted but if he was content to just watch you, you didn't mind.

The next time you went out for a dive he'd made another appearance, this time resting on the rocks instead of behind them. Looking at the way his tentacles gently swayed against the current, you realise the way they'd writhed restlessly the day before may have been a sign of anxiety. It tickled you that somehow, in his mind, you were a threat to be worried about. You'd never even been in a proper fight. His relaxed demeanor gave you a bit of courage and you contemplated offering him one of the lionfish but ultimately chose not to. Doing so would feel as though you were treating him like an animal at the petting zoo. Then again, he was watching you like an animal at a regular zoo, keeping his distance as if he thought you'd lash out at any opportunity. You focused on the task at hand. Either the sharks had developed more patience or they were full from yesterday, this time they seemed more interested in dawdling around and getting pets than playing Russian roulette with your spear. You'd gotten into a rhythm of pull, aim, release as you moved slowly across the sandy substrate with him never too far behind.

On the third day he was almost as close as the sharks were. There was still a respectful distance but you'd only have to reach out your hand to touch him. Despite your determination to hold strong as he approached there was a hint of fear in your eyes when he first got closer. He wasn't threatening but the size difference was all to blatant up close, his chest so broad and arms so thick you didn't doubt they could snap you in half like an oatmeal cookie. In response he seemed to try to make himself look smaller, drifting at a lower level so that his head wasn't much higher than yours. This gave you a good look at his features, he had round pupils unlike the rectangular slits you associated with octopi, his sclera was a light grey and his irises a saffron yellow on downturned eyes. He didn't seem to have any patchwork of iridescent scales like your work colleagues. His eyes aside, everything about his face was sharp, from the hooked nose to the prominent chin and brow bone. As curious as you were, you tried not to look any lower than the slits along his neck; gills, in case your gaze made him uncomfortable. You briefly wondered if he'd try to say something once he got closer but he didn't, he just looked back with a gesture you interpreted as 'continue'. So you did.

There actually weren't anymore lionfish nearby so you decided to take a moment to clip the spines of the one on your spear, hoping to feed it to Joel the eel... or maybe this was Geoffrey. He took this lull in your movement as an opportunity to interact. You stared wide eyed as his hands reached out. It looked as though he was going to reach for your spear but thought better of it and reached out for your free hand instead. He took your smaller hand into his much larger ones. He inspected each finger, pulling them apart and tracing the curve in between, where his held a thin membrane. He ran a thumb over your blunt nails, where his held thick black claw. His movements were slow - cautious - and you get the feeling that it was more for your benefit than his. Wary as you were, you were equally enthused to learn more of the man... fish... octopus being before you. He inspected the sleeve of your wetsuit, running his fingers over the material. When it seemed like he was going to pinch the fabric between two claws you tugged your hand away, shaking your head in hopes the gesture was universal. Thankfully he understood. He then circled you to take in the rest of your form, a possible sign he understood touching anywhere else on your body might be unwelcomed.

Unsurprisingly, he took particular interest in your legs, watching the way they swayed to keep you afloat. He didn't touch you yet you somehow felt pressure over every inch his eyes laid upon. Was this how your coworker felt during those awkward introductory meetings where there would always be one person asking to touch their fins. The memory made you giggle and the merman suddenly shifted his focus from your legs to your face. Your breath caught as his eyes focused on yours, it was mesmerizing how they looked as fluid as the ocean; the colors swaying as the black center zeroed in on you. For a moment you wondered what did you look like through those eyes. He raised a hand to rest his knuckles against your cheek. His gaze then lowered to your lips. Your body -so ready to flee when he first approached- now froze. No matter how much you tried to reinforce that his actions were of innocent curiosity you couldn't stop thinking they weren't. Or maybe you just hoped they weren't. Oh dear. Before you could figure out where your head was at, he pressed a thumb against your lips. There was a subtle shift in his features as he stared at you intently. A question? Was he asking to kiss you? Your heart sprinted. He wanted to kiss you... and you- you were actually considering it. You must be insane; yes you thought he was gorgeous in a unnatural -captivating- way but you weren't going to kiss a creature you haven't known for more than a few hours. You hadn't even exchanged words with him. Words... Oh! That was it! You would've face palmed if your hands weren't occupied. He wished to speak, and prior knowledge reminded you that merfolk could adapt a language through lip contact. Well, that cleared your brain a bit. If that's the case surely you could spare your lips for a moment. It wouldn't have to be long, just the slightest peck was enough. A fraction of a second. He was patiently awaiting your answer, somewhat pulling back as if to tell you 'no' was a more than acceptable answer. With a tad more hesitation you finally nodded. You pulled out your mouth pieces, angling it downwards to prevent excess air loss. Trying to show some initiative you moved closer but you just couldn't bring yourself to close the kiss. Graciously he did and your lips met. Your rushing blood brought heat straight to your cheeks. It was such a minute amount of contact but your body responded as if he was already tongue deep inside. You felt... something. Like faint streams of electricity that moved from the corners of your lips to the center before vanishing. You figured it was the magic at work, now would be the time to move away but your body and brain can't seem to get on the same page. Or maybe they were on the same page and the voice telling you to move away was something foreign, something unwanted. You opened your eyes to see his, half lidded but looking at you with an intensity that couldn't be misconstrued. Neither of you wanted to break the contact. You're not sure where the confidence came from but just as you moved to press closer to him, your lungs reminded you where you were. They called for oxygen. It took more effort than you would like to admit to pull away from him and return your regulator to your mouth. You looked back at him to see his fingers pressed against his mouth, eyes swirling with mixed emotions. Maybe it was your eyes playing tricks on you but you swear he licked his lips. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat and he moved his lips as if testing the motions.

"Can you understand me?"

You nodded in the affirmative. And by Gods, the smile on his face could outshine the sun on a clear summer morning.

This opened up the pathway to your budding friendship. Underwater, you couldn't have full conversations but with the barrage of questions he had there was hardly a need to speak. It especially amused you that he had to confirm that you were indeed human. Do humans walk everywhere? Do we forms pods? Do we dream? Do humans fly was a weird one to answer under the limitations. It was an eye opener to the fact that you were as alien to him as he you.

At some point you remembered that you were on a timer and though there wasn't really a quota, resurfacing with only four lionfish would definitely not look good for you. You went back to spearing, trying to be quick while he asked about this and that. It only got better when you finally resurfaced. You perched on the old abandoned dock, it was barely more than a couple planks of wood hanging on for dear life. You were especially glad that this area remained as vacant as when you left so you didn't have to worry about worried/wondering gazes at the two of you.

Unfortunately diving was only something you could do 2 maybe 3 times a week, it was essentially a freebie session offered to break up the office work you dread. Still, even after you clocked out, you'd take a stroll to that same dock where he'd be waiting beneath the surface. You learnt that, though most merfolk would declare otherwise, his species wasn't rare. Just distant and reclusive. The only reason he was close enough to the shore to spot me was because he seeked a precious stone to complete a trade. Based on his description you believed it was Larimar or Blue calcite, which you may have in your personal collection. When you asked why he decided to approach you, his answer was a sideways glance and a shrug before quickly changing the subject. There were moments, you noticed, when he'd rest his arms along the wooden planks and caress your overhanging legs. The movements were slow and feather light, almost absent minded. It made your mind fuzzy, you wished to just close your eyes and focus on nothing but the feel of his skin against yours. Occasionally, he would gently rake a claw over your soft skin and you'd try your best not to trip over your words. In return, you'd run your fingers over the mix of tentacles and tendrils that sprouted from his head- similar to hair. The prehensile limbs would wrap around your fingers. The gestures were unmistakably intimate but neither of you spoke against it. Amongst the many questions and conversations would be these moments of content silence, these you treasured most. His hands on you, your hands on his, as you both enjoyed the world around you and each other.

Now those memories fill you with a hollow feeling in your chest. It's been almost a week with no sign of him. What had you expected, really? He has a life down below that he has to attend to after all. Even you have missed a day or two. What if he's hurt? The question gnawed at you many times these past few days; you despised the small part of you that preferred that outcome over having been left behind. But then the idea that somewhere down there he was facing unknown perils that you'd have no means to help him with would solidify in your mind. No, you'd rather the hurt of having been abandoned. Summoning your mental fortitude, you aimed to focus on the task at hand before you accidentally harm one of the sharks by being distracted. There was a new face this time... at least you thought they were new. They nuzzled your body as if sensing your distress and to your delight; it helped

Seconds dragged into minutes then hours before it was time for you to get out. You wished you could say you were strong enough to just go but instead you swam around for a bit; hoping. Praying. But there was nothing around except you, the water and your pitiful heartache.

Above land you safely shed the equipment. The smart thing to do would be to go home as soon as possible. To finish your day, change your clothes and curl up in blankets while playing some video games. However, you've always been a creature of habit so instead you sat at the old dock. Alone. The sun was so warm but the winds were relentless, they licked at your skin as if trying to shoo you away. Maybe this was Poseidon's way of telling you to get over it. It's not like there was anything between the two of you. You'd only known him for a handful of weeks after all, that's barely enough time to form a friendship much less... As if shutting down the thought, your brain replayed a memory of him pressing his face against the palm of your hand with pure bliss etched into his features. As if your touch alone could push away all his problems. Then there was the time you touched your forehead to his during a momentary spur of boldness. The look he gave you spoke so loud in the silence. You would've kissed him then if not for your shyness winning out. That was one of the last moments you'd shared before his disappearance. A treasure in your heart that now caused you pain. Packing up your things, you got up to leave, however something clutched your ankle. Something, rather, someone you recognized all too well.

You gasped violently as you were dragged down. Thank goodness you did because it was all the air you'd get to take with you in your rapid decent below. He shifted so instead of being pulled by his tentacles, you were fastened to his side by a firm arm. He stared straight forward as he swam, allowing you only to see the tendrils whipping around the back of his head. You could hardly process how fast you were going down the bottomless blue. The water shifted from a bright, comfortimg azure to ultramarine as you went deeper and deeper. Your panic rose the further he swam, which did your lungs no good. Was he trying to drown you!? You couldn't call out, couldn't scream so you tugged and pulled at his thick, unyielding arm, trying desperately to get him to stop. He turned to you then, there was a look of pained and haunted thoughts scribed into his face. The lovely grey of his sclera had darkened into a soulless black making the yellows of his eyes that more vibrant, almost glowing in the waters inky depth. The word 'feral' again came to mind as he blinked his second eyelids. He looked at you and looked at you and looked even more. As though his eyes processed one thing but his brain was stuck on something else. It took a moment but he finally said your name. Not said, growled it. His usually velvety deep voice was now strained through gravel. He pulled you closer to him and buried his face in your hair, your heart would be fluttering were it not currently banging in your chest wondering where the hell was the oxygen it ordered. You tried, you really did, to struggle against his hold. Hoping he'd wake up from whatever spell he was under and bring you back to solid ground. Hell, you'd make an attempt to swim for it, knowing how futile it would be. But once his long tongue was on your throat you became putty in his arms. You feel three distinct fingers rake against the other side of your neck as he nipped at you. You can't tell if your breath hitched or your lungs made another vain attempt to reach for air. You raised a trembling hand, trying to alert him to your situation but he seemed solely focused on tasting your skin.

"Breathe." He spoke in-between licks, his tongue venturing down to your clavicle, and you wondered if he'd actually gone mad. His hooded eyes met yours and he repeated the word.

It didn't matter anymore, the choice was no longer yours. You had held onto that final breath for dear life but it was time for that life to come to an end. A stream of bubbles left your horrified lips as you now fought not to breath in; that was a far shorter battle. You inhaled, preparing for the sting of water invading your airways in it's rush to your desperate lungs. For your body to heave and cough as the waters reminded you you were not it's friend but a guest who had overstayed their welcome. Would your body float up to be picked at by birds or sink to be fodder for the sea floor scavengers? You waited and waited. But... It never came. You, somehow, were breathing air. Opening your eyes in confusion, you looked around to see if you were suddenly back on land, if all this was some dream or hallucination spurred on by your guilt and heartbreak but no. You were still surrounded by the open seas and all it's inhabitants. Your breaths felt slightly strained but you weren't going to complain about life saving miracles. Especially when a giant tentacled man was tracing his finger down your spine. Now that your life was no longer at risk(mostly) you calmly rest your palm against his head, trying again to get answers out of him. He stilled, dissolving into your touch as he had many times before. You saw a bit of clarity in his eyes before he closed them.

"I'm sorry." He said after a moment, his voice was lustful and strained, like a warning sign dipped in want and desire. "It started; my heat. I tried to stay as far away as I could but when all sense had escaped my mind the only thing left were thoughts of you." He pulled you closer, his eyes remained closed as if one look at you would break the little control he had. "I thought I had overcome it when I began searching for... Methods for you to survive beneath the waters. But the moment I had my answers it overtook me. It possessed me. It still does. I want you...desperately but only if you'll have me."

You listened to his words, in confusion then understanding. Then you actually understood! Oh! Suddenly your body had forgotten all it's woes, focusing on your core instead. He wanted you. You bit your lip in thought, noticing that the water couldn't pass some unseen threshold of your mouth. You wanted him, you couldn't even pretend to deny that but... Was there a 'but'? You searched your tainted mind for excuses but your brain and your body were again in unison, the only outlier was you. You slid your hand up his face and caressed a cranial tendril, he opened his eyes and you felt his body vibrate. Purring.

You didn't have the courage to look him in the eye when you spoke. "I will." You consented.

He was on you instantly. His lips crashed into yours with reckless need. There was no slow build up, no questioning nor tentative tongue touches. His tongue snaked pass your lips and devoured you in kind. His large hands ran down either sides of your body, meeting when they both grabbed at your ass. There they lingered, kneading your flesh through the stretchy materiel, before one devious hand ventured even lower. You felt him slide a finger along the fabric covering your sex. Back and forth, his finger glided creating a nice little friction that almost touched your eager clit. Your hips moved on their own, seeking the contact. You craved more of his touch and suddenly the thin, synthetic rubber was a dense barrier. As if hearing your thoughts, there was the slightest pinch against the crook of your behind before a sudden coldness seeped in. You could feel him carefully swipe his claw to just above your clit, creating a opening in the fabric. The new sensation of cold wetness against you warm sex made you gasp but it was soon replaced by the warmth of his... hand? No, the texture was far different. Before you had a chance to investigate, the feeling of suction against your clit gave you all the answers you needed. Something between a gasp and a moan left your lips, the sound must've pleased him greatly because he tore himself away from your mouth to look into your eyes. The limb covered your whole sex, with the tip lightly teasing your entrance but it was that one suction cup upon your clit that was really putting in the work. It took a rhythm that was brain meltingly pleasant against the sensitive bud, thoroughly teased by his phantom touches prior. A sudden surge of pleasure began to build causing you to reflexively try to squeeze your thighs together. However, the action was impeded by two tentacles quickly wrapping around your legs to keep them parted. They squeezed as if to reaffirm their hold on you. He took your chin in his hand and watched you intensely as you came undone from the stimulation. His grip was light but unyielding when you tried to turn away. Closing your eyes would lead to him stopping completely until they fluttered open again to meet his. He would take in every dip in your throat, every curve in your lips, every crease beneath your eyes and flush upon your cheeks. He wouldn't miss a moment of your first orgasm at his hands. His gaze was dizzying, as if whatever possessed him was now reaching out for you. Having him inspect you with such cold fondness only made the experience that more salacious. The rising tide of pleasure finally crashed and you were left a buzzing, panting mess. With a look of gratification he released your chin, wrapping his arms around you once more to knit your body to his.

"You're so beautiful." He cooed before trailing off into words of his own language.

You didn't get a moment to say anything back before you felt something probe against your opening. One of his tentacles slid inside you fully, welcomed and aided by the slick lube of your still pulsing walls. You shuddered in his arms, thankful for the support. It was a comfortable fit and suddenly you're reminded that it's been ages since anyone has had you like this. It made the experience slightly more alien atop the fact that you were being intimate with a lust driven sea-beast. Rather than the expected thrusting, the appendage grazed along your insides. It twisted and pushed as if getting a feel for you, learning you before pulling back out. The sudden emptiness made you whimper, you looked at him, ready to beg if need be but it didn't come to that. You felt your entrance being prodded again. It was the familiar tip of a tentacle, ready to enter you once more. However, the more it pushed, the wider it got; so very much wider. And Gods, it held a bumpy texture that was absent before. Just as your mind went hazy you realised it was two of them, wrapped around each other. It finally gave you the thrusting motion you desired, it's ribbed texture grazing parts of you that remained untouched for too long. Your movements were limited but you attempted to grind against each wonderful thrust, moaning your delight with feather light whispers. This was all too good, soft and pliable enough that it writhed inside you but firm enough to press against your hungry womb.

Despite all senses seemingly being focused on your trembling hole you felt something press against your stomach, forcing it's way into the tiny space between your body and his. You peek downward to see the spearheaded tip of what you assumed was his cock. Suddenly, his preparation of your cunt made sense, you'd expected him to be big but geez. It was identical in color to his body, darkening at the tip in a similar fashion to his fingers. It throbbed and twitched as he began to grind against you. Even with two tentacles stretching your insides, your greedy eyes craved the feel of it. Craved the connection to him. You reached down and grasped it at the base, shock almost pulling you out of your haze when it wrapped around your hand. It tightened as if begging for more of your touch. You acquiesced and began running you hands up and down his massive length, taking great pleasure in the way his body vibrated with resonating groans. His thrusts inside you growing wilder, taking you further and further and you were determined to take him with you. His voice held a softer, pleading tone as it goaded you on, praising you between strained hisses. His cock swelled and hardened, his words devolving into senseless mumbles. The limbs inside you became more erratic as his pleasure grew. His grip on your body tightening to the point of leaving small tears in your suit and nicks in your skin. He released a long animalistic huff as he coated your arm in slimy white fluid, your body responded by coating his tentacles with your own. You rest your head against his chest, moving in time with his heavy breaths, counting them as you both recovered. You're not sure when he began moving you but suddenly you were face to face. He kissed you. Slowly. Gently. Tasting and savoring you.

"Do you think you could take me, my treasure, or do I need to stretch that greedy hole of yours even more?" He asked between kisses.

Words were beyond your tired brain so you just nodded. As spent as your body was, this moment would not feel complete until he was inside you. Slowly, as if moving you too much too quickly could break you, he turned you around so that your back was pressed against his chest. He snaked his hands around you -he really did seem to love having his arms on you-, one hand moving to grope your breast while the other traced a line down your stomach to caress your mound. You feel his lower half angle itself to bring his leaking member to your slick opening. Oh so slowly you feel him slide into you, spreading you wider with each inch. You couldn't help but try to squirm against him but his hands held you steady. He was only half way in when your body began to show resistance. He started pulling out slowly and thrusting into you, getting a little bit further each time.

"You're being so good for me." He whispered just above your ear, his voice held a lovely cadence. Singsong; as if haunted by a melody that compelled his body to move.

You couldn't hear it but you felt it, it rang through your body with each sway of your hips and out your lips with each whine. Down to the way he held you, like an instrument to be adored. Every moan a crescendo and every voice stopping bite at your neck a diminuendo. He was playing you and you were loving every moment of it. In and out, in and out like he was timing bars on sheet music. That was up until the flat, tapered tip hit the deepest part of you; he'd hilted. Then everything stopped. Fermata. You're only warning for what was to come were the tentacles that slithered around your legs to ground you. You hardly even felt him pull out, just the force as he thrust fully into you. The sound that left your mouth was a guttural whine of shock and pain. He kept going. Slamming. Pounding. Taking your body over and over. It hurt and yet you desired more. He fucked you like he was craving this moment his whole life. Your body eased and the pain slowly dissolved into pleasure, never quite leaving but become something more. Something better. Something wholy obscene. Your body was an inferno in the cold, dark water. Pleasure overtook you; you no longer felt like a person, just a mass of emotions and senses. You could hear his grunts and growls behind you, the sounds he made were truly animalistic. Wild. Primal. Savage. As though he couldn't fathom being anything but a creature of vulgarity. Couldn't fathom doing anything but driving himself into you. Desired nothing more in the world than to fill the emptiest parts of you. Your walls tightened around him, as if intending to learn every bulge and vein of his cock. Pulling and sucking him in with no desire to let him go, that was where all your strength went. You felt the recognizable build of another orgasm and judging by way his pliable member was now a hardened monolith, he wasn't far off. He no longer needed to lead, you danced with him as you both came together. His seed seeped out of him, filling every bit of (nonexistent)space inside of you before oozing out. He continued to thrust, making sure you milked his cock for everything he had. It's throbbing was like a heartbeat inside you.

You collapsed against him, laying your head flat against his chest, your cheek barely touching the flesh above his heart. After a moment you looked up to see him already staring down at you, the affection in his eyes fueled your already thrumming heart. A moment of tenderness as the tainted waters surrounding you both whisked your indecencies away. His sclera lightened to their usual soft grey. An eagerness popped up on his face as he seemingly wanted to ask you something then but thought better of it. A somber look taking over his features instead. Using what little strength remained in your body, you turned fully to him. He immediately took your head in both his hands and rest his forehead against yours.

"I- Did i hurt you?"

"Did-" You gave him a droll look. "Did you hurt me??" You flicked his head. Well, you tried but there was less than no force behind your fingers. "Of course you did. Lucky for you I enjoyed it."

"I'm so sorry, I'll be gentler next time." He sounded genuinely apologetic. "If you would allow for a 'next time'."

"There better be."

"And a time after that?"

"Don't push your luck, ocean boy."

You felt him smile against you. It may have been an innocent one but you couldn't help but wonder if he was already plotting.

He took you above land after that and you thanked the Gods above that your towel and pack was still waiting for you. At least you could walk(limp) to the company building without catching a charge for indecent exposure. He watched you from his usual spot on the dock. His downturned eyes hooded by his lashes had him looking like a distraught child watching their best friend board a plane to unknown lands. Did he think he scared you away? That you'd never return? Maybe as a bit of revenge you'd let him believe it.

((You also had to deal with the urge to sink into the floor at the knowing and amused looks on your merfolk coworker's face every time they saw the marks on your neck D:))

#monster boy #monster lover #monsterfucker #merfolk #monster x human #monster romance #monster smut #teratophillia #exophelia #kyumiwrites #monster writing #tentacles #tentaclesandtendrils

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

Text

Tim Drake, Danny’s human identity in this universe, is a boy trapped in an empty manor with absentee parents a low socialization.

Danny Phantom, on the other hand, is Gotham City himself. He could fly, he could interact, he could be the heart of his city like he needs to be. From the lowest of the lows to the highest of the highs, Danny loved the people that were his. Well, most of them. Child molesters often found themselves crossing paths with a vengeful, mostly recovered Robin.

He is the city, he is Gotham. And with his status came more changes, ones he welcomes more readily that the changes that came with his title of Ghost King.

Being a city couldn’t change him as much as it would have, had he gained the title before becoming King. But now, his shadows are dark, curling around his shoulders and curling away what little light he allowed into his city. His skin, having once glittered green with stars and galaxies and black holes, clouds over just a bit. It gives him a misty quality. His hands become sharper, stronger. Gargoyle-like. He wonders what he looked like to Batman, holding his broken son cradled safely to himself. He’s crueler, now, but that’s easily balanced by his years of being a vigilante himself.

He loves these changes. They are loved in a way changing into Dead Danny Phantom and Ghost King Danny Phantom will never be loved. And even though his human features are different in a way he never had to deal with as Danny Fenton, because it was his body that he died in, Danny finds himself enjoying the distinction. And he enjoys when they combine, because in the end, they’re just facets of who he is, now.

Gotham flies through his city, and enjoys it as a whole. A bigger picture.

Tim Drake walks through his city, and enjoys it as an individual. The smaller picture.

Being Gotham reminds him of what he had to protect as a whole. A duty he gladly bears.

Being Tim reminds him of the people he’s meant to help, the stories he doesn’t get as Danny. A connection he gladly encouraged.

Gotham is power. He is duty, he is fierce love. But for the good of the whole.

Tim is kindness. He is choice, he is gentle devotion. But for the good of the individual.

He’s both.

Danny. Danny Phantom.

Phantom glides through the smog.

The ebb and flow of people is his life blood, the thrumming of life and death and fear and hate and love and everything the city is sung through him and Danny sung back with everything he had. Danny is the gargoyles perched high, watching everything. He’s the stone curves of the sewers, sheltering his rats and mutant murderous crocodile man. The is no love comparable to a city’s mutant rats and their sewers. Ancients, he loves his city.

It would be nice, Danny thinks wryly, if they’d love me enough to stop blowing up buildings.

The sting of destruction to his city would hurt much more, had he not also been King. Regardless, every time there’s an explosion or general large scale property damage, he feels a stab of mild pain. Catching sight of his Bats, Danny stays invisible while following them. He wills the shadows to cradle them, to hide them further. He softens the stone, the mortar, the steel, just a hint. Their footsteps, silent and aided by the city himself. The wind steal away the noise of the grappling guns, so when Danny’s favorite vigilante duo (a fascination he shared with original text!Tim) broke into the building, not a single soul aside them are aware of the intrusion.

Batman skulks across the support beams, Robin following with an anticipatory grin. Danny floats, invisible, undetectable, besides them.

“C’mon!” A goon grunts beneath them. Danny tilts his head. A… Dresden Aberthy. Wow. That’s one hell of a name.

“Hurry it up! Boss said Batman’s going to get here soon!” Another goon- Robbert- said, waving around a gun like a moron at the terrified hostages. Danny could tell half of them were part of a tour bus, mostly because the other half were his Gothamites, bored and unfairly used to this kind of thing. The tourists… He’s fond of them, having kept track of their progress through his city. He doesn’t care for intruders on his haunt, but tourists like to appreciate his city and its doubtlessly Sam-approved architecture. Most of them. Rude tourists get pigeon shit on their heads and food stolen by his lovely rats.

He’ll have to make sure none of the bullets hit the tourists. He likes this group, even if he has enough awareness to question their sanity in choosing his city to sightsee. He knows it’s a mess. It’s Danny’s mess though, so whatever.

——

All said and done, Batman whoops ass and Robin rescues the hostages just fine. Danny grins proudly as Robin knees a guy in the crotch and punches a lady’s throat in order to incapacitate them.

After they tied the goons up, and interrogated them for Two Face’s plans- explode a quarter of Gotham to distract the Bats from his diabolical plan to murder half of Gotham’s judges and lawyers that have been going after him and his people- the duo retreats to the rooftop.

“Didja think Gotham saw that?”

Batman goes to reply, but Danny beats him to it, coming back to visibility with a wind touched laugh.

“I did, little Robin.” Danny smiles, fangs and shadows on display as his vigilantes startles and whips around to face him. “You did well.”

Robin- Jason!- gapes at him.

“I see you’ve recovered, little bird.”

“Gotham! Oh. Wow. People always said Gotham was a lady, but you’re a guy!”

“It was a Lady,” Danny confirmed. “It’s complicated, little bird.”

“So, you’re really… you’re really Gotham? The city?”

Danny looks at Robin with the weight of the city behind his gaze.

“I think you know the answer to that. But yes, I am your city.”

“Constantine,” Batman starts. “He said that city spirits only appear in times of grave danger.”

There is deference in his words. Batman is Batman for Gotham, after all. Danny just wishes he could… well, be friendlier with his knights. May this is a good place to start.

Are you in danger? What threats do we need to handle? How can I help? How can I protect? Please, let me help.

His Knight always felt more than he ever says. Danny smiles.

“Was Robin’s wellbeing not in grave danger?” Danny floats closer. “I am your city. You protect me, it is only right that I protect you, no?”

“Thank you for saving me, Gotham!” Robin’s grin is a touch more sincere than usual.

“Of course, Robin. You are loved.”

“Is there… a reason you’ve shown yourself today? Gotham.”

Danny chuckles, understanding the awkwardness that was Batman addressing someone with deference.

“I wanted to tell you that you did well tonight. Those tourists weren’t harmed in the slightest. Well done.” Danny gave Robin a playful but sincere thumbs up.

“They weren’t a match for us!”

“No, they weren’t.” Danny ruffles Robin’s hair, noticing how still he grew at it. “Robin was too fast for them. That maneuver at the end was masterfully executed.”

Batman clears his throat and Danny resists the urge to laugh at him. It would be mean.

“Thank you, for the… praise.”

Fuck it. He’s played well behaved for too long.

“Yes. I read in child rearing books that positive reinforcement is necessary for healthy development. You did well, Batman.”

Despite trolling Batman- and somehow holding a straight (and hopefully wise face)- he meant every word.

Allowing a small smile to slip at Robin’s chortles and Batman’s quiet sputtering, Danny moves on.

“Where is Nightwing, Batman?”

“He’s still on a mission...”

“If it is awkward to refer to me as Gotham, Phantom will do.”

Batman dips his head once. “In space, with the Teen Titans.”

“I see. Please tell him I request his presence,” Danny barely waits for Batman’s oddly acquiescing agreement before summoning a pigeon.

“Follow her,” Danny instructs the duo. “She’ll lead you to the places with explosives. I will guide you through her, to Harvey Dent.”

Danny winces as another explosion rings out.

“Your face is cracking!” Robin exclaimed, worried. He surged forward to stare at the hairline cracks appearing on Danny’s jaw.

“That would be the explosives. Any damage to the city will be shown on me.”

“Well take care of it.” Batman growled, shoulders straightening once more into an imposing symbol.

“Yeah!”

“I know you will. Stay safe.” Danny disappears, spreading his awareness and directing his Birds to the explosives that will go off the fastest.

Batman and Robin share a glance and leaps off the roof, ready to save their city once more.

——

Tim Drake wanders around Crime Alley, and meets a blonde nine year old trying to throw hands at her absentee Riddler knockoff of a dad. He dodges the brick en route to his face and kicks the guy’s knees out.

“You okay?”

The girl blinks. She stares at her dad, groaning on the dirty street of crime alley, and flicks her gaze back up to Tim, who waits casually.

“Yep. I’m Stephanie. We’re gonna be friends now!”

She grins at him, a baby tooth missing, and Danny melts.

“Heck yeah. Tim!” He introduces himself for the first time in a long time.

Maybe with Stephanie around, he’ll finally use the name Tim? Maybe he’ll get used to it, finally!

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nomercymaster11 · 3 months

Text

It's complicated

@GOKUJOUNOMAGURO

W/C: 1,492 | Law x y/n , afab!reader, Heart Pirates daily life

A/N: How do you handle rejection? How do you cope? That's the theme of this series. (More interactions with the Heart Pirates crew too!) Please do comment if you want the next chapter. I hope you guys will like this... :3

The gentle rumbling of the submarine's engines filled the Polar Tang's hallway, providing a comforting background noise. The soft lights along the narrow corridor gave a cozy feeling, and at the end of the hall, a big window showed the calm ocean outside.

Law stood by the window; his attention focused on the marine life gracefully gliding through the clear blue water. It was a mesmerizing sight, yet the emotions brewing inside you threatened to cast a shadow over the beauty of the ocean beyond.

Taking a deep breath, you approached Law, your heart pounding with nervous anticipation. The silence in the hallway hung thick, broken only by the subtle creaking of the submarine as it navigated the ocean depths. The air felt heavy with unspoken words.

"Captain," you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned his head, his gaze meeting yours with a calm and collected demeanor.

The sunlight, filtering through the water's surface, painted intricate patterns on the window. The beams of light cascaded like liquid gold, casting a heartfelt glow in the confined space. The scene seemed to echo the complexity of the emotions swelling within your heart.

"I need to tell you something,"

you confessed, your words lingering in the quiet hallway. Law's expression remained unreadable, and a flicker of hesitation passed through your eyes before you continued.

"I... I have feelings for you... I needed to let you know."

Law's stern gaze softened for a moment, but he remained silent.

"I understand if you don't feel the same way," you continued, your eyes dropping to the floor.

"But I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. It's okay if you don't—"

Law gently interrupted, his voice steady and composed,

"I appreciate your honesty, but I cannot reciprocate those feelings."

A heavy silence enveloped the both of you, the words echoing in the confined space. The sunlight outside the window continued its dance, casting both light and shadow on the scene, as if nature itself mirrored the bittersweet revelation.

"Thank you," You uttered politely.

Your eyes met Law's, a subtle acknowledgment of the conversation that had just unfolded. With a dignified nod, you bowed your head, attempting to maintain composure, concealing the devastation that echoed within you.

The hallway of the Polar Tang seemed to narrow as you walked away.

As you retreated to your station, you crossed paths with Shachi and Penguin.

"Ei! <y/n>," Penguin's enthusiastic shout pierced through the solemn atmosphere. Ignoring him, you continued walking, as if the world around you had faded into insignificance. The duo exchanged puzzled glances; their curiosity piqued by your unusual behavior. They decided to follow you, concerned expressions etched on their faces.

Shachi's voice cut through the silence.

"What's wrong? Why the long face?" Shachi questioned, lightly tapping your left shoulder. In an instant, tears welled up in your eyes, and the intense emotions poured out uncontrollably.

"Oi...!" Penguin exclaimed, guiding you to the side of the corridor.

Shachi followed suit, both concerned for your well-being. Your hands covered your face as you wept, and Penguin, ever watchful, scanned the surroundings for any prying eyes. With gentle gestures, they ushered you towards your room.

The three of you arrived at the front of your door.

"May we come in?" Penguin breaking the silence.

You nodded, closing the door behind you. Shachi and Penguin found seats within your room, while you settled on the edge of your bed.

"Tell us what happened," Penguin urged, his concern evident in his voice.

A heavy pause hung in the air before you began to speak.

"Law rejected me," you confessed, your gaze fixed on the floor, your voice barely audible. Shachi and Penguin exchanged surprised glances, struggling to comprehend the unexpected revelation.

“What do you mean you’ve been rejected?” Shachi asked you.

Penguin subtly motioned to Shachi, silently conveying that he would take charge of the situation.

"You're not thinking of leaving the crew, are you?" Penguin's direct inquiry followed.

"No, of course not... but... I don't know," you answered hesitantly. Your response left them concerned for your emotional state.

"Do you want us to talk to him?" Shachi offered; genuine worry etched across his face.

"Please don't!" you pleaded, locking eyes with Shachi, the horror of the prospect evident in your gaze.

"I'll handle this. I'll be fine. Thank you for the concern," you reassured them with a faint smile.

Penguin sighed heavily. "We shall get going then. He might be looking for us now," he added, offering a comforting pat on your back.

"Don't worry. We're not going to tell him that you talked to us. For now, you rest. We'll cover your station in the meantime," Shachi reassured you, a genuine sincerity in his words.

"I'm really sorry for the trouble, but thank you guys," you expressed your gratitude, the weight on your shoulders slightly lifted by their understanding and support.

Penguin and Shachi walked away from your room; the corridor once again enveloped in the subdued lighting of the submarine. Penguin's fingers absentmindedly brushed his chin as he delved into deep contemplation, his analytical mind trying to unravel the complexities of the situation.

"I don't get it," Penguin muttered, a perplexed furrow forming on his brow.

"We always catch Law looking at her, but why would he reject her?"

His voice carried a mix of confusion and frustration, as if trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. The subtle hum of the submarine's engines seemed to echo the mystery surrounding Law's unexpected decision.

"Ngghhg," Shachi grunted, scratching his head with both of his hands, offering a non-verbal agreement to Penguin's sentiments. His brows furrowed in tandem with his friend's, both lost in thought as they navigated the narrow hallway.

The rhythmic sounds of their footsteps resonated against the metallic walls, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that lingered in the air. The enigma of Law's actions hung heavily between them, leaving the duo in a state of silent contemplation. As they continued their stroll through the Polar Tang, the captain's motives were still unclear, and this made them feel uneasy. It kind of spoiled the friendly vibe that had been briefly disrupted by what was revealed in your room.

---

Bepo's casual stroll towards the kitchen was abruptly interrupted by Shachi's shout, causing him to turn around with a surprised expression. Penguin and Shachi, sprinting to catch up, reached Bepo, creating a small gathering in the corridor.

"Bepo!" Shachi called out, urgency in his voice. The trio quickly made their way to the nearest round table, their faces etched with concern. Penguin took the lead in explaining the afternoon's events between you and Law.

"Captain did what?!"

Bepo's eyes widened with disbelief, almost screaming at the revelation. Shachi shot him a stern look, his finger pressed against his lips, signaling for Bepo to keep his voice down.

"That sounds bad," Bepo remarked, reclining in his chair, arms crossed, and a visible frown etched on his face.

"Bepo," Penguin leaned forward, his arms crossed on the table, "did you see Law a while ago?" he inquired.

"Yeah, right before I got here in the kitchen. He went back to his office," Bepo responded.

"Did you notice anything about him?" Shachi questioned.

"Now that you mention it," Bepo paused, taking a sip of his cold water, "he seemed in deep thought."

"No, he's always like that!" Shachi retorted with a hint of frustration.

"But he seemed sad," Bepo added, his observation hanging in the air like an unspoken truth.

Penguin grunted, placing his right hand on his forehead, a gesture of helplessness.

"He's technically got that poker face every day," he added, acknowledging Law's habitual stoicism.

The Polar Tang bore witness to the trio's hushed conversation. The enigma surrounding Law's emotions deepened, their faces cast in shadows that mirrored the uncertainty of the situation.

Penguin's deep voice cut through the quiet atmosphere.

"There's nothing we could do, for now. But let's keep an eye out for the two," he suggested, a tone of helplessness echoing in his words. The weight of the unspoken emotions surrounding Law and your revelation lingered in the air.

"And Bepo..." Penguin's gaze shifted towards the polar bear mink, a sense of seriousness etched on his face.

"Don't spill this conversation to anyone."

Bepo's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected directive.

"Why only me? And not Shachi?" he questioned, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Because you have the tendency to overshare with anyone," Shachi chimed in, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Fiinnnee!" Bepo sighed, reluctantly agreeing to keep the conversation confidential. The camaraderie between the three crewmates added a touch of humor to the otherwise somber atmosphere.

After the conversation concluded, the trio dispersed, each returning to their respective stations. The corridor, once filled with subdued voices, returned to a quiet solitude, leaving the unresolved tension to echo through the metal walls of the submarine.

CHAPTER 2

#law x you #law x reader #law x y/n #law x female reader #one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #law one piece #heart pirates #bepo one piece #shachi one piece #penguin one piece #one piece fanfiction #I've been thinking about this story for so long. I need to write it down NOW.

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sheisjoeschateau · 2 months

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve... | PART VII

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER VII WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, ruthless banter, mentions of death, injuries, end-of-the-world terror talk, newfound shared codependency (but like it's healthy imo also it's valid lmao) jealousy. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this chapter is honestly a gahdamn MF feast. a favorite of mine NGL, for a multitude of reasons. Murray high key pops the fuck off like the boss bitch he is and takes us on a long lecture of a journey to visit the lordt of truth bombs. Eddie has zero chill. Robin is the bestest-best-fwend and platonic-with-a-capital-p soulmate to our boy. Dustin is a dingus. LUCAS BE SEEIN' THINGS. Hopper is Joppering. Nancy and Jonathan get a clue. Mama Steve and the kids are in full swing. We get a cutie cameo from Harrington's signature yellow sweater.

And our lovebirds finallyyyy......well.....say the magic word that they're feeling hehehe:)

ISSA LONG ONE. PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve knew he would have to face downstairs again at some point before the morning. Definitely before everyone else went to bed. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Not yet.

Because right now, you were fast asleep in his arms. Laid carefully on your back for the sake of your bad shoulder, with your head turned into his chest. Steve was propped up on an elbow, facing you with his other hand gliding his fingertips to trace your arm draped across your chest. He drew shapes up your arm, now adorned with his yellow crewneck, up to your jawline so that he could tuck your hair behind your ear.

And all the while, he just stared at your chest – comforted by the steady rise and fall. It kept him sane. It kept his eyes open. It kept him from letting the nightmare return. You slept so peacefully, he might never have known you’d been dead in his arms earlier that day.

“You are beautiful, Steve Harrington.”

Your words from last night ran through his mind on a loop, like a VHS tape on replay.

“I can’t stand you.”

You’d said it in the warmest voice Steve had ever heard in his life. Somehow, those words meant more to him than I love you. Because when he said it back, he realized it meant the same thing.

“I can’t stand you either.”

I love you too.

Steve carefully placed his forehead against your temple, eyes fluttering shut and breathing you in. Something danced inside of his stomach. It ached, it burned and it warned him of all the things he feared feeling the most for anyone except the girl downstairs who had made love seem lost. He never wanted those feelings to return again for anyone else but her – Nancy. And yet here he was: every one of those feelings rushed back tenfold, for the girl upstairs in his guest bedroom lying beside him. The girl who had ruined the chance at a life for him with Nancy Wheeler. The girl he swore was the reason he was robbed of all things good. Robbed of love. True love.

But he no longer loved Nancy Wheeler.

Steve Harrington loved you.

Downstairs, everyone is quiet but productive.

Joyce is organizing the last of the stashed supplies. The kids are eating some bowls of hot soup, served up by Murray. He had to stay busy and shake off the frayed nerves. Otherwise, he’d go berserk. Completely berserk. Joyce gently helped him but knew better than to baby him. She was surprised to find Erica walking over, offering to help serve up some glasses of water or sodas for everyone. To everyone’s surprise, they operated well. Like chef and sous-chef. What an unlikely duo.

Hopper and El were talking in the living room about the potential new plan, and Mike moved from the table where he sat with the kids and teens to join them.

Steve could hear them all down there, the ambience muffled on the other side of the closed door separating you both from the rest of the world outside of each other's arms. He could have fallen asleep right there with you if he let himself.

But a soft knock on the door made him crane his head to look towards the source of the noise. With one last look at you, he carefully slipped his arm out from underneath you. You never stirred, the rhythm of your breathing still intact and your mind lost in sleep.

Steve wasn’t sure who to expect on the other side of the door. But as he ran a hand through his hair, he found himself not caring.

Turns out, it was Murray. He stood with two bowls of hot soup, now staring into the eyes of Steve Harrington — who he begrudgingly noted still looked dashing, despite his towel-dried bedhead and tired eyes.

Seriously, no one should make a t-shirt and sweatpants look that good.

Your uncle cleared his throat. “Uhh, I made some soup.”

Steve gave him a timid but grateful nod, taking one of the bowls. Glancing back over his shoulder, Murray followed Harrington’s gaze — back at you, sleeping in bed.

“She’s still out,” Steve told him.

Murray nodded. “I’ll keep hers warm downstairs.” An awkward silence fell over Murray and Steve, but finally your uncle continued. “Listen, why not come down? Let her rest, get yourself some water or — a sandwich maybe, to go with the soup. Erica says she’ll make them but I'm reallllly not feeling confident about that.”

Steve allowed himself a soft chuckle at that, biting his lip and glancing back at you.

“She’s alright,” your uncle assured Steve. “Trust me. I keep having to remind myself that, too.”

Steve was glad that the two of them could relate on that — endlessly worrying about you. He was also glad that your uncle wasn’t giving him shit for it, and honestly Murray was extremely pleasant when he wasn’t being an ass. It took Steve by surprise. No wonder you two were related. With a reluctant sigh, Steve agreed to follow Murray downstairs for some more grub.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Steve’s eyes first landed on Nancy sitting with Robin and Joyce. She looked over at Steve with her big blue eyes, which danced with longing. Steve’s doe brown eyes didn’t return it, but he lightly smiled in her direction anyway. Robin immediately perked up, jogging over to Steve from her seated position on the floor. She grabbed him for a tight hug, and he made sure not to spill his bowl of soup.

“Sorry sorry, I’ve just — been worried sick.”

“S’okay, Robs,” Steve murmured, appreciating the comfort. She pulled back to look at him, giving him a sad smile. She wanted to ask him a million questions, but knew it best to save it for later.

“C’mon,” Robin told him, tilting her head towards the kitchen. “Let’s go grab some crackers or something to go with that soup, which you need to eat. Don’t even think about not eating, Steve. I’m serious, okay?”

Steve listened to her keep rambling on as they walked into the kitchen, where Erica and Lucas were bickering about PB&J’s, and Murray stepped in to take back his title as head chef. Eddie and Jonathan were sitting at the dining table, clearly in deep conversation but ceasing once they noticed them walking in. Jonathan gave him a pitying look, while Eddie flashed a dopey grin to try and hide whatever serious talk was just going down.

Dustin, Mike and Will all rounded the corner as Steve moved to sit at the bar. They all sat next to him happily. YAY, MOM’S HOME.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair absentmindedly as he sipped on his soup and stared down at his spoon. Erica was shoving a very haphazard looking sandwich in front of him while Lucas told him he’d spit it out after the first bite, which sent all the kids into a frenzy of bickering, lighthearted insults and witty comebacks. Steve sighed, content as he ate several mouthfuls of the sandwich while listening to his kids squabble.

Jonathan was shaking his head over in the corner, observing this. “Guy’s a hero to those kids,” he murmured, only loud enough for Eddie to hear.

“Babysitter turned full-time mom turned hero,” Eddie smirks, amused. “Dude’s a legend.”

Jonathan scoffs, amused but also not. “Wasn’t always...”

Eddie clocks what he means by that. He knew King Steve, too. But Eddie can see a twinge of something else in Joanthan’s eyes, surprised to see it. Jealousy. It’s subtle. Not toxic, or even remotely a threat.

That is, until Jonathan sees Nancy moving to take a sandwich from Erica — her eyes wandering over to Steve and the kids. She looks enchanted, melancholy. Is she sad? Why is she sad?

…why is she sad looking at Steve?

Jonathan’s brow furrows. Eddie decides he better speak up and interrupt whatever he’s thinking. Because he sees it too. Uh oh.

“Trust me, he was a dick. I know. Told him so myself.” Eddie tries to make light of it, grinning. “But I think sometimes…some folks just need a big thump on the head. Shit, I did. I used to run away from alllllll my problems. Hell, I…I’ve even had my share of making others feel small, just so I can feel big. Not in a bad way, though. Never mean. Just…immature. Y’know? Point is, I’ve been there too. Maybe not as big a dick as Harrington…” He snorted. “No pun intended.”

Jonathan whipped his head in Eddie’s direction. What did that mean?

Eddie quickly tried to cover up his reference to the Hawkins High heartthrob’s manhood. “I just mean, I just mean — like — we’ve all been dicks. You know? Big ones. Small ones. Medium…sized…ones.”

He counted at least 5 perplexed blinks from Jonathan. Eddie sighed, exasperated with himself. “The point, the point. We uhh…we live and we learn. Right?”

Jonathan finally let his tense shoulders loosen up at that, but he glanced back at Nancy – who was still watching Steve as she got herself a glass of water and letting Robin ramble to her. And Jonathan also watched Steve, who was now telling Dustin to share the box of crackers with everyone and not hog them from everybody.

It began to click for Jonathan. The longing stares. The unusually strained affection between him and Nancy, ever since he got back. He knew that was partially his fault, if not entirely his fault, given him pulling away from her after moving to California. But then he got back to Hawkins, and realized the second he saw her that he’d been a fool to think he would ever be better off without her, or convince himself that she could be better off without him. One look at her made it all go away. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and Jonathan was definitely aware of that now.

But had it made Nancy’s heart grow fonder, too? For Jonathan?

…or had distance made her heart grow fonder for someone else…

Someone else who she had distanced herself from once before, when she found love and comfort in Jonathan Byers’ arms. Harrington had been away from Nancy when she was around Byers, and then Byers was away from Nancy when the world went to shit again, putting her back around Harrington again. No Byers in sight.

…was this karma? Jonathan Byers was beginning to wonder that. Was this what he got for so confidently whisking Wheeler away from Steve back in high school? Is this what he got for thinking he was safe?

…maybe that is what Steve meant when screaming at him earlier, as they tried to pump you back to life.

“DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP.” Jonathan would never forget the way that Steve’s sounded as he spewed at him. Broken, anguished and betrayed.

“IT’S NOT WORKING,” Jonathan had wept bitterly. “IT’S TOO LATE.”

When Nancy had chosen Jonathan, Steve never got mad. He never got mad at either of them. He told Nancy he got it; that it was okay. And he never said anything to Byers about it. Next time they ran into each other, it was just tense silence. Steve might have picked a fight with Jonathan once before, that damn morning in the alleyway when Will was still missing. But that was 2 years ago now, and it felt childish compared to everything that had happened since then. Steve’s anger then was so subdued to what it could have been, and he never explored anger towards Jonathan once he had successfully managed to take his girl.

But the way that Steve Harrington looked at Jonathan now, while you were dead beneath their hands, was fueled by anger. Red hot and flaming. He looked ready to finally unleash on Jonathan, ready to blame him for his existence and how it only brought Steve grief. For once, Steve Harrington looked rightfully angry with Jonathan Byers for being the source of his pain. Steve looked ready to punch him square in the jaw and beat him up the way he’d had his own face beat up by not just Byers, but also Billy Hargrove and the Russians.

“DON’T SAY THAT. NO ONE GAVE UP ON YOUR BROTHER, YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST GIVE UP ON US NOW? THINK ANY OF US WANTED TO STOP WHEN WE THOUGHT IT WAS TOO LATE? FUCK YOU, BYERS. FUCK YOU.”

Jonathan deserved it. He completely deserved it. All of it. It had been a long time coming, and while it was over 2 years past due…he took it. All of it. Even what was still left unsaid. Jonathan let Steve verbally rip him to shreds before Eddie took over and brought you back to life with Steve instead of him.

And that’s why now, as Jonathan watched Nancy catch him staring at her — looking caught as she tried to give him a smile — he let it happen. He just gave her a reluctant smile back, accepting his fate. Because now, after what he had seen today, he realized that Steve wasn’t even a threat. Maybe a month or so ago, he would have been. But that wasn’t the case now, which he only knew after seeing the way that Steve clung to you and sobbed uncontrollably over your lifeless body – then afterwards, when you were alive again.

Steve no longer pined for Nancy Wheeler. He pined for you.

Not for long, though. Honestly, it was as clear as day that whatever was going on between the two of you was mutual. The way you held Steve earlier, comforted him — assuring him that it was alright, you were alright — and how you stroked his leg in the living room before he helped you upstairs and disappeared for a couple of hours into your assigned guest room… Jonathan knew, along with Eddie, that Steve Harrington’s heart was in your hands, and yours was his.

It’s what Jonathan and Eddie had brought up at the table. Not the whole “why hasn’t Steve unleashed his anger on me until today” aspect of things. But the fact that you and Steve, who seemingly could not stand each other, now seemed like a pair.

Nancy moved to sit next to Jonathan, who awkwardly poked at his soup bowl and did his best to fake a smile. Eddie watched them, knowing. Man, he could really use one of his guitars right now to pluck out the tension…

Lucas was saying something about Max needing to be checked on upstairs, which made Steve quickly shove the last of his sandwich into his mouth so that he could come help him and Erica along with Will, El and Mike. They all made their way up, and Dustin stayed behind. He moved over to the big kids table, bringing the box of crackers over with him. He plopped down next to Eddie, who was grateful for the comic relief after the tense talk at the table. Robin moved to bring over fresh cups of coffee, sitting between everyone.

“So uhhh, we gonna talk about it?”

Dustin’s question made everyone freeze.

Robin cocked an eyebrow, leaning onto her elbows to sip her coffee. “About what…?”

“About Bauman and Steve, and how we all clearly did not see it coming.”

Robin choked on her coffee. Nancy stiffened next to Jonathan, which he didn’t miss — considering her hand was resting on his forearm. Eddie drummed the table awkwardly while nodding and staring straight ahead at absolutely nothing.

“Yeeeeeee-up, caught me off guard,” Eddie said. “I’m normally good at picking up on that shit.”

Robin was still working on clearing her throat. “Look, we don’t know anything yet —”

“He’s literally your best friend, Robin,” Dustin accused with an eye roll. “If any of us know, you do.”

“Well my strange, tiny friend,” Robin quipped wryly, “I’m afraid I’m just as in the dark on this as you are.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat with a flash of concern in her eyes. “I really should have seen it coming, though. I was so sure he was just gonna keep on hating her guts.”

“I still don’t understand why he hated her at all,” Dustin said, adorably naive.

Eddie smirked, uneasy. “Meh, not important.”

“Seriously, they got along just fine whenever we fought the demodogs,” Dustin continued, oblivious. “And at the snowball, but then after that he just – went at it with her all the time, even though they would both still hang out with us. Like an old married couple.”

Nancy listened intently, trying to keep up and put the pieces together. Because truly, she herself had been wondering what changed. But she had been so focused on her life, in her own world with Jonathan and their jobs, she really hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that you and Steve had gotten along at the start, then not at all, and now…well…

Robin puffed out a breath of air. “Maybe they’ve just…gotten closer. You know, found a way to get along. Murray’s an ass, and even though she’s not and I love her, Steve’s not exactly the easiest to get along with even though I love him —”

Dustin scoffed. “Robin. He kissed her.”

Eddie clicked his tongue, trying to think of Metallica lyrics and avoid looking in Nancy or Jonathan’s direction.

Robin stared. “What?”

“When?” Nancy’s voice startled the room, and Jonathan seemed to cringe at it.

“Dustin,” Jonathan sighed.

“Today,” Dustin kept talking. “Whenever we…brought her back. He — he kissed her. He literally bawled on top of her and wouldn’t let her go.”

Dustin’s eyes lost all of the annoyance, now looking sad as he thought back on it all. Robin stared at him along with Nancy, barely breathing. Even Eddie looked over at him.

“I’ve never…I’ve never seen him that upset,” Dustin murmured. “Steve’s never sad. Not like that. I’ve never even seen him cry. Not once. Robin, did he ever cry while you both got tortured in the Russian chambers?”

Robin thinks back on that, gnawing at her lip, deep in thought. She shook her head, realizing… “No. No, he didn’t. Just – panicked, but not…he didn’t cry.”

“Exactly,” Dustin says. “Because he’s awesome. He’s brave, and cool, and awesome. Steve doesn’t cry. Today? He bawled.”

“Seeing someone die in front of you does that, man,” Eddie pointed out, melancholy. “I know I did whenever Chrissy died… You cried today. I did. Byers did.”

“Not like that,” Dustin insisted, voice firm. It made everyone go quiet again. “Not like that,” he repeated. “That’s how I would have cried if…like, if Suzy died. Or how Lucas did when Max died before we got her back. How Hopper and Joyce would. How Jonathan and Nancy would.”

That made the present couple go stiff. But Jonathan nodded, eyes boring a hole into his coffee mug. “S’true,” he mumbled. “If that were you, I would.”

Nancy looked at him, eyes guilty. Of course, it was the same for her. But she couldn’t focus on that right now. Not now that her collective thoughts and observations were confirmed. Now that she knew for sure…

“It’s not a matter of if they’re into each other,” Dustin kept going, certain. “It’s a matter of when. When did it start and how were we blind?”

But no one could answer that. Robin couldn’t, and she was shocked that she couldn’t. She knew her best friend all too well. How had she not seen this coming? How could she not have sensed that his never ending hatred towards you was slowly developing into liking you? Maybe even loving you…?

Eddie had only started sensing it that day. Until then, he had been the one to encourage Steve to go after Nancy. To get her back, win her over. But that stopped whenever Jonathan came back into the picture, of course. He knew better than to cross that line. Still, he knew that Harrington loved her and pined for her. He also knew why Harrington couldn’t stand you, along with Robin. They adored you, hoping at some point that you both could just become friends who tolerated each other. Eddie never thought it would become more than that: a civilized friendship.

And Nancy felt something heavy sit on top of her chest that she really could not seem to accept yet: the truth. She lost Steve.

“Alright, guessing game is over.”

Murray’s voice rounding the corner made everyone jump, and he eyed down everyone at the table as he walked in with his empty soup bowl. He made for the sink, turning on the faucet with his eyes still glued to the five people seated at the dining table, who stared back awkwardly. Finally, he looked down as he washed his dish.

“Take it from the witchdoctor of love: those two had it coming.”

Eddie cocked an eyebrow, completely amused.

Jonathan, however, was not. This was so karma.

“...had what coming?” Dustin asked.

Robin shot him a look — bless his little naive heart.

“Psh, c’monnnn,” Murray said, rinsing the bowl. “The sexual tension. The incessant arguing. Harrington’s personal utmost disdain towards her.”

Nancy spoke up, unable to help herself. “But…why though? She didn’t do anything wrong. Why would he have disdain towards her…?”

Jonathan hated how irritated Nancy’s question made him feel towards her. It irked him deeply, but he just let it fester quietly as he sat there staring down at his cup of black coffee and having no choice but to listen.

Murray looked at Nancy with the most condescending expression, uncensored as fuck. “Honey…really?”

Off Nancy’s clueless expression, Murray rolled his eyes in the back of his skull as he slapped the faucet off before whirling to face them.

“Once upon a time, two years ago: you and Jonathan came over to my bunker — uninvited — waltzing your way into my business, along with my niece’s. Thankfully, to our benefit, you helped us crack the case and — not so much to our benefit — onboarded us into your mess. But rewinding back a few slides, you two stayed over because of the vodka coursing through all of our veins and tried to convince the two of us — AKA yourselves — that you two were just friends. Which was the biggest load of unbelievable bullshit you both could have told me, and that’s after you told me everything pertaining to the absurdity and pure insanity regarding the upside down. But really, it was a great belly laugh for me and my niece, so thank you. Thennnn, my niece offered to let you both take her bed — not buying a lick of it, and suggesting you both stop being in denial. On top of that, as a former student at Hawkins High, she knew King Steve very well. She knew how Wheeler and Harrington both started dating, and how much closer the two of you —” (he gestured between Jonathan and Nancy) “— had gotten since Will Byers went missing then got rescued. Because my niece isn’t stupid. She could’ve been class valedictorian if she’d wanted to, but — being like her cynical uncle — she didn’t wanna. She’s a street-smart annnnnd booksmart cookie. She knew you both were bound to let the trauma bond get you both together, and that genuine love had formed between the two of you way more than it had between her and Steve. So she called it out, after being fed a bunch of coo-coo-bananas nonsense from you guys in my casa about being 'platonic.' "

Eddie's jaw was practically touching the table. This was literally the best story he's ever heard, and it had just freaking started.

Robin felt like she was watching a movie in her mind, one in which her best friend was the main character and she was rooting for him like life depended on it.

"Fast forward to the lab, El’s grand return, Will’s exorcism, the demodogs, the Snowball, and our little house party that followed —” (he pointed at Dustin) “— you forgot that part — turns out, Jonathan Byers can’t take his liquor, so what does he do? He goes over to my niece, who’s standing in the kitchen — like so,” (he gestured to himself) “ — and starts profusely thanking her in a string of loud, slurred, drunken words, about how he was chosen one, and how he got the girl, alllllll thaaaaannnksss toooo myyyyyy niiiieeeeeccccce."

Nancy's blood ran cold. What?

"And because it was such a small house, no offense Henderson, unlike Casa Harrington — the king himself heard it all. Every lick of it. So of course, who’s he gonna hate with a fiery burning passion more than he ever could hate Jonathan Byers for stealing his girl? The person who told him to do it. Myyyyyy niece. Because he can’t hate Nancy Wheeler, never-ever-ever could he hate the girl he swore was the love of his life. And he couldn’t even hate Jonathan, because what had he done except be the victim of King Steve’s incessant bullying and his horrible posse of friends in high school while his brother was missing in another dimension? But Steve had to hate someone. To loathe someone, blame someone, more than himself. So he chose her. He chose my niece — and by extension me, but mainly her. Because she was a part of the gang now, and around way more than I ever have been around you kids. Which is to be expected. So blah-blah-blah, hate-hate-hate, fight-fight-fight — soooo muchhhh traaaauma.”

Murray paused for dramatic effect, soaking in everybody's faces, then continued.

“...and what happens when there is trauma?... bonding. Trauma bonding. Forced alliance. The need to put aside your differences, so that you all can just get along and survive. And that leads to talking…which leads to more fighting…eventually, tears. Lots of ugly words that can’t be taken back. And then…suddenly…” Murray snaps his fingers. “Common ground.”

No one has made a sound, hanging onto Murray’s every word.

“Vecna ends the world. At least, Hawkins. We all somehow manage to survive it. We all need somewhere to goooo…and we wind up here. In a house, all underneath the same roof. Forced to coexist. Therefore, newfound respect and understanding is acquired when in close quarters. Just as the two of you, Ms. Wheeler and Mr. Byers, found in my bunker. Steve and my niece found themselves forced to live with one another, the space between them closing in. Gap by gap, inch by inch…until…”

Murray made a gesture that looked like that of a magician, everyone’s eyes following. “Magic.” He walks closer, slowly. “Some small talk becomes bigger talk. Some childhood trauma that decorates the walls of Harrington’s house becomes the topic of conversation. My niece just so happens to be a really good listener, and Steve happens to be in need of one. They both discover they’re the only child in both their families. His parents are absent. Hers were barely ever present, before surrendering her to both mine and my mother’s care. But she doesn’t mention that yet, no — why? Because she’s listening. Relating. Understanding. Meanwhile, Steve feels heard. Seen. Relevant. Important. Like maybe whatever he has to say matters. Fast forward some more, blah-blah-blah…some more co-parenting later…which honestly, is the only reason those two maintained some sort of peace in the first place — aside from the inevitable perils that we all have had to face and be paid to keep our mouths shut about…”

Murray points to Dustin, who stares at him — agape.

“You kids are the damn glue holding those two doomed enemies-soon-to-be-lovers together. Not that you knew that. You’re kids, and you don’t know that shit yet. Which is good. And they love that. Steve might hate her, but he’s not gonna make you kids hate her. And she finds him infuriating, but she isn’t gonna let you all know that by persuading you to feel the same. Because he loves you rugrats, and you all love him…and you rugrats love her, as she loves you. Fast forward to a night when all the kiddos are fast asleep, and the adults get a night to themselves with some cups of chilled vodka that fuels everyone’s laughter and newfound liquid courage — but just enough to give a light buzz, rather than sloshed drunkenness — the enemies, who’ve now become somewhat of friends…realize that they feel more. Or at least, that’s what I observed. Grilled my niece about it, that night before bed — and next thing you know — she is the victim of Uncle Murray’s love-talk lectures. Just like you two were. She’s swearing up and down that she cannot stand Steve, and that he cannot stand her. She insists they are mortal enemies. That he hates her. Will forever hate her. And then…that rambling turns into truth. Admittance. Denial, still. But it’s enough to go off, allowing me to paint the picture and speak the truth into the world out loud: WE DO LOVE STEVE.”

Nancy freezes at that, eyes wide and heart blue. She swallows thickly, and Jonathan feels sick.

Murray's conductor waving hands settled down, ready for the grand finish.

“...someone had to love Steve. But it wasn’t you, Ms. Nancy Wheeler. Not forever, anyway. Not in the desperate, novel-esque ways we all read about or see in the cinemas. But it was her. You liked Steve, so that she could love Steve. And he loved you, so that he could hate her…only to realize that he loved her. Deeply...madly...and truly.”

Murray leaned back, letting his rant come to a full stop. The air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Mouths agape, brains fried and heartbeats racing. They were stunned into shocked silence. With a sigh, Murray made for the fridge.

“Do me a favor…” He grabbed some juice, along with the vodka, pouring himself a cup. Then, with a severe look in his eye, he faced the group again.

“Don’t make a damn fuss about it yet, yeah? Not yet. Not to them. Wanna do it with each other, go ahead. But maybe lay off them for a bit, will you? Hmm?”

Everyone was surprised at the uncharacteristic parental tone in Murray’s voice and the look in his eyes. They felt parented now.

“Maybe let the shock of this newfound realization they both just came to accept barely before my niece stopped breathing today…I dunno…simmer down a bit, yeah?”

Dustin gulped, nodding. Robin did, too. Eddie had pretty much bitten his nails down to stubs at this point, and Jonathan had shrunk so far down into his chair he was practically on the floor now. Meanwhile, Nancy looked like a heartbroken child who’d just been told that Santa Claus wasn’t real. With that, Murray raised his glass of jungle juice and exited the kitchen — vanishing, leaving the group to sit there in their own unsettled energy.

So when Lucas, Erica and Steve all shuffled back down the stairs, it alarmed them. Robin stared at Steve and the kids, while Eddie rose to stand and grab the box of crackers from Dustin. Jonathan swigged his coffee. Nancy just stared at Steve helplessly.

“Alright, who needs more food before we all turn in for the night?” Steve asked as he moved to put away the sandwich fixings with Erica.

Nobody spoke, making Lucas look at them with a quizzical expression. Erica did the same, stopping as she went to put the sleeve of bologna back into the snack pan. Steve had been busy picking up discarded bowls and plates before he finally looked at everyone, too. He cocked an eyebrow, confused.

“You, uhhh…you guys okay…?”

Robin tried to speak, choking on air. Steve squinted at his best friend. Finally, she found her voice. “Sorry. Got the jitters. Too much coffee.”

She stood up hastily, collecting everyone else’s cups — even Jonathan’s, who was mid-sip. Robin avoided Steve’s gaze as she dumped them into the sink with a very fake, wide toothy-grin. She hummed while rinsing the cups, and Eddie clapped his hands together when rising to stand himself.

“Better, uhh, go re-dress my, uhh — dressings.”

“I got you,” Robin said, splashing the hot water and dropping the sponge so that she could hurriedly dry off her hands and follow Eddie out of the room – giving Steve a quick kiss on the head. He watched her go, curious.

But then he saw Jonathan and Nancy sitting over at the table still, along with Dustin — who was staring back at him sheepishly. The curly-haired kid stood up, clearing his throat and shuffling over with the now very-empty box of crackers. He whistled while tossing it into the garbage and moved to finish the dishes. That definitely made Steve raise an eyebrow. But he figured it was out of pity, so instead he just gave the kid a pat on the back and ruffled his hair before going back to tidying up the kitchen.

Nancy felt queasy. Really queasy. And looking at Steve was not helping, especially being seated next to Jonathan. She rose to stand, making him look at her back with queasiness of his own. He watched the back of his girlfriend as she started to turn to look back at him…and when she couldn’t, it made his heart sink. She walked towards the living room, disappearing behind the wall. But not before passing by Joyce, who made her way into the kitchen to give Steve a motherly touch on the arm.

“Dr. Owens will be here first thing in the morning,” she told him, reassuringly. “Real early. Probably 6AM. Hopper’s letting Murray know.”

Nancy refused to let herself cry that night about Steve Harrington and her newly unrequited love.

Jonathan watched his mom comfort Steve, and while it made him grateful it also made him sad. Steve sighed with relief as he thanked Mrs. Byers, and when his mother began to help him find some temporary pain medication that Dr. Owen’s instructed her to give you, he decided he couldn’t listen anymore and left.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with her, do you?” Dustin asked. “You know, heart-wise or anything…?”

“She’s gonna be fine,” Joyce told him sweetly, rubbing Steve’s back as he leaned against the kitchen counter with a tense back. “Her heart, her shoulder, her mind. Everything.”

Steve took deep breaths, and Erica would have hugged him if she weren’t so profusely against giving anyone any sort of physical affection.

Lucas, however, did move to squeeze Steve’s shoulder next to Joyce. After all the comfort he’d gotten from him after Max died, then got brought back…and still received, with her being in a coma…Lucas understood Steve’s pain.

No one knew it, but Lucas had secretly caught onto Steve’s feelings for you whenever he went to visit Max in her room one morning but heard you both sitting in there. Selfishly, he’d stayed behind the cracked door to listen in…and it made him freeze in place. They way you and Steve bonded, despite all the rivalry between you both. The way you both spoke to one another in Max’s presence, like she was keeping the storm at bay despite being asleep. Lucas felt as though he was listening to a conversation taking place between two fighting parents, who were finally finding common ground. He had secretly listened like a little kid, leaning against the wall, giddy and heartbroken at the same time. Lucas wasn’t sure why, but he knew. He just knew. You two were crazy for one another. Maybe because he and Max had their struggles, too. Maybe something about the way Steve pushed you, and you pushed Steve — maybe it reminded him of them, just as older teens. Steve was his hero, and you were Max’s. He would give anything to talk with her about it, to hear whatever she had to say about the two of you…the unlikely duo…

But he didn’t say anything about it. He felt it best not to push anything. Not yet. When Max woke up, he would. But maybe now, he wouldn’t have to. Because Steve had been faced with the possibility of losing you. And if he was gonna mess that up, then that's preposterous. Then Lucas would say something.

***

That night, Steve crawled back upstairs and ran into Robin coming out of his bedroom, having just discarded Eddie’s only wound dressings in the hallway bathroom and changing into her pajamas. She was staying in Steve’s room, per usual. And she wondered if she might have just caught him coming upstairs to sneak into your room and not his. At this rate, nothing was a surprise anymore. Thanks, Murray.

“Hey, dingus,” she grinned. Steve grinned back.

“You gonna finally get some sleep?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, gesturing to the blankets in her hands. “Was just gonna go give Eds some fresh blankets.”

“Lemme know if you need help with that, seriously. His wounds, I mean. I’ll have Dr. Owens check on him tomorrow too, whenever he comes to check on Bauman.”

Robin nodded, biting her lip. God, she wanted to ask him so many questions. Hug him. Tell her best friend to spill the damn beans. Demand him to cry, to break down in front of her. To scream. To laugh. Anything.

“Robs, you good?”

“Steve, I love you,” Robin blurted. “Like – love you to death. Best friends forever. Just — just…” She bit her lip some more, trying really hard to think before she speaks. Steve waited patiently, a bit nervous. Robin sighed. “Just know that…I’m here. And I’m always gonna be here. Supporting you, with…whatever you need. Even if that’s to shut up and just help you with something and not ask you any questions. Alright…?”

Steve’s eyes sparkled, and he stitched up the distance between them to give her the tightest of hugs. His best friend of a soulmate. Platonic with a capital P. Robin hugged him back fiercely, dropping the blankets. She sagged with relief. Thank God.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Steve mumbled into her hair.

“Cool.”

“Bed’s all yours. Spread out. Starfish. Steal all the covers.”

Robin snorted into Steve’s shoulder, squeezing him tighter. “Okay. Cool, yay.”

Steve chuckled too, squeezing her to death. He really did have the best friend in the world. They swayed a bit like that for a moment, content and comforted in each others’ embrace. Then finally, Steve pulled back and Robin ruffled his hair. He rolled his eyes, swatting at her lightly as she grinned wide. Scooping down to pick up the blankets, he handed them back over to Robin. She smirked.

“Is she a cover hog, too?” Robin teased.

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t ask questions?”

Robin saluted, making her way towards the stairs. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Steve could finally breathe for the first time all day, aside from whenever you were safely in his arms. Knowing that he had his best friend on his side without needing to have a full blown conversation about anything yet…that really helped lighten the load a bit. He exhaled deeply, letting the relief seep into his bones as he made his way to his bedroom door.

***

Once inside, Steve felt his heart swell. There you were, tucked in bed still, sleeping peacefully. Steve walked over to crouch over and kiss your forehead, gently stroking your hair. He noticed you seemed to still be in the same position. Almost like you hadn’t moved at all. He looked at the clock. It’s…been hours. Several hours. At least 4. He looked back down at you, seeing how still you were in the dark.

His heart stopped. Were you too still?

Steve placed a trembling hand underneath your nose, too shaky to be able to tell. But when he felt nothing, he frantically grabbed your wrist — yanking it off your chest to feel for a pulse —

You moved, stirring awake and looking at him groggily. Steve just about collapsed, clutching your hand and bringing it to his lips as he sunk down onto his knees.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and another to your palm.

You groaned lightly, moving to turn towards Steve and yawning. He melted.

“How long have I been out…” you asked him sleepily.

“Hours,” he told you. “Which is good. You need sleep.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering tiredly. “M’hungry.”

That made Steve grin ear to ear. “I can fix that. Want me to bring it up here?”

A grin slowly made its way onto your face too, and you nodded gratefully. Steve squeezed your hand, leaning forward to peck your forehead and your nose and your lips before promising you he would return.

When he did, he came back with the bowl of hot soup that your uncle had kept warm for you along with water and some pain medication. You were sitting up now, leaning against Steve’s chest as he sat with his legs caging you in and leaned up against the headboard. You had just taken the medication a few minutes earlier, now sipping on the hot soup and a tall glass of water that Steve held onto for you.

The little bedside table lamp cast a soft glow in the Harrington’s upstairs guest bedroom, and the sound of light rain outside of the window filled the room along with the plink of your spoon against the soup bowl. Steve felt grounded as he kept his arms around your waist, circled around you as he held you close. His chin sat on top of your head, and the scent of his lavender shampoo in your hair filled his senses with peace.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Steve’s question surprised you as you slurped another spoonful of soup, but you swallowed and felt the corner of your lip twerk up into a little smile.

“Yellow.”

Steve felt himself smile at that, squeezing you a little tighter. “Guess this shirt was a good choice, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m glad you bought two. Rich kid perks ain’t so bad.”

There was lightheartedness to your tone that Steve found himself adoring. Craving, and yearning to hear more of – should time be on all of your side, in this godforsaken town.

“I wonder if Vecna’s rockin’ my other one down there.”

“Nah, the dogs are.”

Steve snorted, giving your hips a little squeeze and pressing a kiss to your temple. You sighed against him, sinking back and placing the bowl of soup onto your lap.

“What’s yours?” you asked him curiously, watching the shadow of the raindrops on the ceiling as they slid down the window.

“Blue. Sky blue.”

You hummed, placing one of your hands that sat on your stomach onto his and interlacing yours fingers. “Like a pretty, non-upside-down clear blue sky?”

“Schyeah, that.” Steve rested his chin back on top of your head as he glanced out the window, the black sky and rainfall sending a shiver down his spine. He wondered if the world would ever feel normal again…

Steve decided to ask you more normal questions, wanting to pretend that none of the dystopian reality just outside his house was real — just for one night. He asked you what your favorite movie was, shocked to find that you loved romcom’s. Especially Endless Love, Pretty in Pink and Working Girl. He wasn’t sure why he thought you’d say dark movies, or maybe sci-fi hits. Maybe Steve didn’t know what he expected you to say. But regardless, your answers fascinated him. He loved learning why you thought Sigourney Weaver’s character was misunderstood in Working Girl, which led to you both discussing women in the work force and how they should receive higher pay – equal to the men. Steve agreed with you, liking how passionate you were about it yet graceful and humble at the same time. You were smart, but somehow underestimated. It was strange. You were strange. Turns out, he loved ‘strange.’

And it also turns out, Steve liked not only action flicks — but dramas, too. Footloose and Baby Boom were on his list of guilty pleasure movies.

“Baby Boom??” you asked incredulously. But you weren’t mocking him, rather genuinely intrigued and amused.

“Hey, it’s adorable,” Steve defends himself with a fake scoff. “She adopts a damn baby and raises her as her own. Be nice.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, tilting your head back to look at him. “God…no wonder you love those kids so much. You’re a natural born mother.”

“Okay but seriously, since when did I become mom and not dad?”

“Apparently, I’m dad.”

“Again: since when?” Steve's tone made you chuckle deeply.

You and Steve talked until your tongues were tired, eventually having moved to lean back onto the pillows. He rested his head into his palm, propped up on an elbow and stroking up your side as you both enjoyed innocent pillow talk. Softly spoken voices, hushed just enough to hear one another. Real hearty laughter that you both muffled into your palms, or each others’ necks, so that you wouldn’t wake anyone. Sweet confessions about food preferences, least favorite holidays, questioning religion while wanting to believe in a god. How Steve thought that vodka was the kiss of death, while you found cigarettes to be disgusting. Steve craved strawberry ice cream, while you were a sucker for plain old vanilla. He loved diners, and you did too. He swore pancakes over waffles, and you made it very clear that French toast was the clear winner. It was a give and take conversation, and you both found it resulted in far more agreements than not. It was the loveliest conversation that either of you’d had in years. Maybe ever. Not just with each other…but with anyone at all.

“So…six kids and a Winnebago, huh?”

Steve’s eyes danced in the moonlight, looking at you with pure adoration. Shyly, he tucked your hair behind your ear, slowly nodding. “Heard that, huh?”

You gave him a little smirk. “It was a pretty small Winnebago.”

He shook his head fondly, then — “Yeah. Turns out being an only child gets to you.”

You nodded sadly. “Yeah. It does.”

Steve hated that you knew that same loneliness. But then again, was that what made you both see each other so clearly? Is that why you knew his deeply rooted longing and misery better than anyone else? Is that why maybe, just maybe…in telling Nancy to run off with Jonathan…you were protecting him? He wondered these things as he looked into your angel eyes, not knowing how in the world he could have not looked at them like this before…especially right when he met you.

You told Steve how you’d always wanted a dog growing up, which led to his immediately confessing he wanted a lab or golden retriever. You nodded eagerly. Yes. Those, or a border collie. A dog that felt like a true family member. Even a stray mutt who needed a home. You both laughed at the funny names you both wanted to name them as kids. Winston, Jeffery, Petunia, PeeWee, Pumpkin, Count Duku. When Steve suggested pancakes as a name, you had to literally turn your head into the pillow to keep your laughter from roaring through the room and waking the household. Even Steve felt like he’d pee himself from laughing so hard, watching you laugh so hard.

God, you were beautiful. You were so beautiful.

…when you smiled up at Steve, bashfully, he realized that he’d said it out loud. “So are you,” you breathed.

Steve shook his head. “I’m not, though.”

Your brow creased. “Yes, you are. You know you are…and if you don’t –”

“I don’t.”

“Well, you are,” you said simply.

Steve pressed his lips together, self-conscious. How had he felt so damn confident all those years in high school, even middle school, but not now? You reached up to push back some of his perfect hair, caressing his cheek.

“I haven’t been,” he confessed, almost in a whisper. “Not to you. I’ve been ugly. Really ugly.”

You looked into his guilty eyes, but Steve couldn’t find any anger or sadness in yours. Just understanding and forgiveness.

“I was, too,” you admitted.

“No,” Steve shook his head, adamantly. “Not like me.”

“Steve, I wrecked your life. Well, your love life. But still, I wrecked it.”

“No, you only wrecked it when you left it,” Steve confessed, bitter at the memory but not at you.

Never at you. Never again.

“Telling me I deserve better, and I…told you that you deserved…nothing.” He visibly winces at his own words. “God, I’m so sorry —”

“Steve,” you stopped him softly, cupping his cheeks. “Don’t. I’ve forgiven it. Really. You didn’t know. You were hurt.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” Steve whispered, looking at you with those beautiful doe eyes that shone in the moonlight. “I actively made a point to stop hurting people, and I did it again anyway. Worse. Way worse than my stupid King Steve days.”

You shrugged, trying to make him smile again. “King Steve was pretty amateur compared to the hard ass you became.”

Steve bit back a laugh, maybe even some tears. Still, he let the joke land. You crane your neck up to nuzzle his nose, making him sigh and return the eskimo kiss. Then you hissed in pain, letting out a little groan.

“What's wrong?” he asked worriedly, brow pinched.

“Stupid shoulder,” you muttered. “My ribs, too, damn…”

Steve looked down at your ribcage sadly, splaying his fingers there against your skin underneath his yellow crewneck. He sighed. “That’s because of me,” he confessed sadly. “Pounding on you nonstop today with the compressions.”

“Well in that case, I’ll take it. Pain’s good.”

You winked at him, and Steve tried to let that comfort him. It did, for the most part. Your oxygen intake really made it worth it, in the end. He leaned down to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as you did the same.

“I don’t know where we’re headed,” Steve whispered against you. “Hawkins. The country. The world.” He paused, breathing you in. “Just know I want you there. All the time.”

You smiled, eyes still closed, heart fluttering. “Good. You’re stuck with me, Harrington. Bothering the ever-living shit outta you.”

“Bother me till I go insane,” Steve breathed, nuzzling his nose against you and grinning like an idiot. He felt happy. Absurdly happy. Who thought that was possible?

“...Steve?”

He opened his eyes slightly, finding yours were already looking into his. He waited, pulling back nervously. Which is stupid, considering you’d just told him you felt the same way. That you wanted to stay by his side, no matter what happens. So why was he thinking that just changed within a 3-second timespan? Why was he suddenly worried that you —

“I love you so much.”

19 years flashed before Steve’s eyes at that moment. His childhood. His pre-teens, and all the teen years that followed. He thought back to every single I love you that had been spoken to him. It hadn’t been many. At least not many that meant anything to him. He could count on one hand the amount of I love you’s that meant something to him over the course of 19 years. But now, he could count on one finger the one that meant the very most to him.

“I love you so much, too,” Steve breathed, eyes glassy and mesmerized as they looked back into yours. “God, you’ve no idea, I…”

Steve felt overwhelmed. He scrunched his eyes shut, resting his forehead to yours again and caressing your cheeks. He pecked your face, every inch of it, slowly. Little kisses peppering your face. “I love you so much.”

He could have bawled on the spot if he weren’t so completely entranced, swept up in the tidal wave of joy that splashed across his heart, mind, body and soul. Steve could bawl about it later. Right now, he simply leaned into your touch and vowed to never let you go.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

bless Murray and his impeccably uncensored madness. about time he set everyone straight, damn.

as alwaysssss, thank u for reading :) this series is so much fun. please comment, it always makes my day.

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h-harleybaby · 1 year

Note

I really like South Park fractured but whole, so maybe you could do Team Stan + Butters reacting to their s/o wanting to be their hero sidekick?

Ughhhhh that’s such a good request. I was like, about to say that my requests are closed but lately I’ve been in a funk and really obsessed with tfbw so NVM I’M WRITING THIS! It might get me out of that funk I was talking about, I need to write anyways. Btw this is all like, aged up to highschool at the very least. You can't tell me they wouldn't still roleplay during highschool because I know damn well they would

You can kinda tell which ones I didn't put too much effort in sorryyyy I just didn't know what to write also also also ignore any mistakes

Cartman, The Raccoon

• Cartman literally gets so excited it's funny, but if you say anything about him being excited he flips you off and tells you that you can't be his sidekick (he's lying)

• He kinda thinks of everyone on the team as his sidekicks but you're like, his special sidekick and he'll never admit it

• He loves having you as his sidekick, NOW IT'S LIKE ALL OF YOUR MISSIONS ARE DATES!

• Cartman literally throws a fit anytime he has a mission you can't go on, he wants you there SO FUCKING BAD but he'll never tell you that

• He's weirdly protective of you but it's really nice (this totally isn't based off me talking to the Cartman character ai)

• You definitely bring snacks for you guys during patrol and I swear to god his pupils are hearts I'm not even kidding

• In my opinion, patrols and stakeouts with Cartman would be the best

• Out of all of them, he's the one you do the most with. Every other night there's some sort of crazy bullshit y'all deal with

• Most of the crazy bullshit being because Cartman caused it but shhhhh we don't talk about it

• Being his sidekick is a soild 7/10, he can get a lil selfish but he's really fun

Kyle, Human Kite

• Kyle's excited but more nervous than anything, he doesn't have anything to worry about tho!

• Y'all are a pretty good duo, even though you don't normally go on missions where y'all have to fight

• You guys work more with damage control, I mean kites are pretty fragile and mans is a human kite alien so like

• Not to say he's weak, he's far from it actually! He just has pretty low health and stuff ya know?

• HOWEVER! You're a pretty good healer so it just makes sense that y'all are always near each other on the battlefield, plus sidekick so yeah

• Not only do y'all usually do damage control but also a pretty good amount of recon

• Half of the time you guys end up getting caught and have to run away so you get to be on Kyle's back as y'all are gliding the hell out of there

• Its like, surprisingly fun to be gliding. The wind in your hair and the excitement is the best

• Anyways, because y'all don't see combat too often the patrols are really calm. Sometimes even a little boring but you don't mind, neither of you are getting hurt and that's all that matters

• 9/10, it's kinda boring sometimes but it's pretty nice to be with your bf. At least y'all don't get hurt and can goof off during patrol

Stan, Toolshed

• Stan's kinda indifferent about it, he's like "cool you're joining me... why?"

• Don't get me wrong, he thinks it's cool you wanna join him! He just doesn't get it too much, isn't it gonna be boring for you?

• Well, ya know what? Now he has someone to spend sleepless nights with when he's on patrol!

• Ngl he underestimated how much he would enjoy having you by his side, he's not lonely anymore AND SOMEHOW HE DIDN'T NOTICE HOW LONELY HE WAS TILL YOU JOINED HIM

• Ahhh, imagine if you had tool themed super powers too?? Y'all share some of his dads power tools and have to awkwardly try fixing them when they somehow break during battle

• You can't tell me Stan hasn't broken them before! He literally throws screwdrivers at people and shoves power tools into the ground, they have to break at some point

• Good thing you guys somewhat know how to fix things, y'all both probably would've been dead multiple times if you didn't know how to repair the shit y'all break

• Y'all have definitely had to clean blood off the tools at the end of patrols/nights. Literally almost every time, he really has to stop throwing screwdrivers at people

• Anyways, Stan thinks you're the best sidekick ever and he loves having you around. Having you as his sidekick is really fun overall, he wouldn't trade you for literally any other

• Being his sidekick is a good 8/10, it's not the best thing to clean blood off tools at 2 am but you don't mind too much

Kenny, Mysterion

• Part of Kenny is over the moon! The other part, not so much

• He doesn't want you to get hurt while you're his sidekick so he's probably a lot more careful on his missions than he usually is

• There's definitely a lot of flirting between y'all tho, he gets SO cocky when he's Mysterion. Its one of his favorite things to get you flustered and flirt with you like, mid battle

• He doesn't die as much as he used to now that you're there so that's nice! He can't bare having you see him die tbh

• Y'all often patrol more dangerous parts of town so you guys see combat REALLY often

• I mean it's not Kenny's fault that homeless methheads and rednecks keep trying to kill you guys. It's whatever, he's good at fighting and so are you!

• You are by no means delicate, no matter how much he tries to protect you from all the battle you still end up seeing it anyways

• He kinda thinks it's hot that you're so good at fighting, he's literally like "damn bbg, you can beat my ass any day"

• Kenny never gets used to you flirting back with him, he practically short circuits. You think it's cute how he can flirt so easily but get so flustered when it's reciprocated

• In my opinion, being his sidekick is 8.5/10 because of all the fighting and flirting

Butters, Professor Chaos

• Omg Butters is ecstatic! He didn't know how you knew he was Professor Chaos but he doesn't dwell on it too much

• Now you guys can bring all the chaos your little heart desires to South Park and he's so happy about it

• First South Park, then WORLD DOMINATION!

• You're not exactly one of his henchmen and he doesn't have the heart to call you his sidekick, you're something higher than henchman?

• Does it really matter? He's gonna bring chaos to the world with you by his side and that's all that really matters in his opinion

• Every time Cartman and his hero team beat him up after foiling his plans you always end up having to patch him up which is kinda annoying but it's fun to scheme with Butters during that time

• You definitely end up being the one who reminds him of his common sense, you're kinda like his rock in a way?

• He's so glad to have you by his side, plus now that you're here his plans actually succeed sometimes!

• The younger henchman all ship you guys considering most of them don't know y'all are actually dating, it's pretty endearing

• Solid 8/10, you rarely get hurt and it's kinda painful to see Butters hurt but y'all have a good time in general

No hear me out, like I wanna pick them all up and hug them like teddy bears. They're all so cute as kids even tho Cartman would probably and most likely has committed war crimes they're my lil cutie patooties. They're literally all really close to my height but I don't care I wanna hug them like teddy bears

If anyone has any recs for places to buy like, nice plushies of them I would appreciate it <3333

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skeletonpunching · 1 year

Text

Buddy Daddies short story

[Translator’s note: This is a short story posted on the Buddy Daddies website, which you could unlock by collecting stickers. It’s set pre-canon, and contains no spoilers.]

Suwa Rei, clad in a black suit, inquired quizzically from the passenger seat, "So it's here today?"

Kurusu Kazuki, in the driver's seat, turned off the car engine as he replied.

"This isn't a job."

"?"

A few months had passed since this homeless freeloader had wound up with Rei. They had also formed quite a dynamic work duo, but Rei still couldn't follow Kazuki's train of thought.

"Then what?"

"There's one thing — just one thing in this world — that I absolutely can't stand. Threadbare T-shirts!"

"Huh?"

"Let's go!"

Kazuki flung the door open and sprang out into the carpark. Right before him, resplendent in the flood of sunlight, stood an enormous shopping mall.

Rei, still in the car, lifted a hand.

"Knock yourself out."

"You're coming too!"

"Ehhh..."

"Who do you think we're buying clothes for? Right now, you don't even have 'clothes to go clothes shopping in', do you? That's why I ended up having to drag you here in your work getup!"

"I'll buy them online."

"Hey. Do you even know your own underwear size?"

"..."

"Got you there, didn't I. Now, come on!"

"...ugh."

Rei begrudgingly hauled himself out of the passenger seat. His hair, pulled back in a ponytail, instantly wilted under the early summer sunbeams.

***

General stores, flower shops, sporting goods stores, cafes, opticians, jewellery shops — all sorts of specialty stores stood proudly in long ranks. The two of them made their way along the gently curving paths. The myriad shopfronts were lined with every imaginable item; with a place like this on hand, you would never want for anything. A pair of grown men might stick out like a sore thumb in a mall like this, but the place was mostly empty on this weekday afternoon, and so there were no curious stares to pursue them. Kazuki made for a menswear store, with his reluctant roommate in tow.

"Aaaaaahhhh!"

A shriek suddenly echoed through the cavernous mall, and they reflexively jerked to a stop. Kazuki whirled towards the source of the voice.

"Noooooo! I want thiiiiiiis!!"

A toddler was plopped down on the ground, clutching a toy tightly. The toddler's mother scowled.

"Don't you have the same one at home?"

"It's nooooot! This — it's not the saaaaame!!"

"Give it back! Put it down!"

It was just a trivial parent-child interaction, but it made Kazuki's breath catch in his throat. A life completely alien to an assassin. A scene that could never be bestowed on him. An everyday existence that lay just out of reach. Those illusions he had long since given up on were now flitting across his mind —

But Kazuki began to walk again, setting one foot stiffly before the other.

Just because he'd given up on a normal life didn't mean he could let himself sink into a sloppy mess.

A worn-out, threadbare T-shirt shouldn't just be treated as the norm. If no one was going to care for you, you should at least look after yourself.

"Huh?"

Just then, it abruptly dawned on Kazuki.

Rei had escaped.

***

Given his profession, he was a dab hand at lockpicking. He was confident it would take him less than thirty minutes to crack all the locks in the store.

In Rei's imaginary shopping mall, a scene took shape, painted by the sound of their cries.

Dogs released from their cages, scampering in packs through the deserted sprawl of the mall. Cats smoothly scaling the clothing racks and curling up on top for an afternoon nap. Rabbits freely gnawing on lighting cables. Tortoises taking a leisurely swim in the plaza fountain. Parrots gliding through the air, adorning the halls with their vivid plumage —

"What are you up to?"

"...nothing."

Rei's hazy fantasies were dispelled by his partner's call.

"Need something from the pet shop?"

"..."

"We're not getting one."

"...I know."

"Yeah, you sure don't look like you know. Listen, in our line of work, there's no way we can be responsible for anyone else's life. Anyway—"

Rei dimly heard Kazuki launch into his lecture. He was used to being ordered around by other people; it was a natural part of his daily life, and so he thought nothing of this sort of incessant chiding. But now Rei found himself subconsciously listening to Kazuki's speech. It even felt... not too bad.

...that's... weird, for me.

Rei muttered under his breath, and the cat before him cocked its head, as if to match.

***

Whoosh! The rail rang out as the fitting room curtain slid open.

"See? That's better, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

Rei's T-shirt was printed with a drawing of a cat in a bowl. It was utterly unbecoming for an assassin. Rei's face, surrounded by his loose hair, also looked somewhat awkward.

"Are you... embarrassed?"

"Not really."

"So, should we put it back?"

"I'm buying it."

Whoosh! The rail rang out as the fitting room curtain slid shut.

Just what kind of poses did that guy strike, when he looked into the mirror? Kazuki stifled a smile, and leaning back against the wall, he called out.

"A real cat's out of the question. So make do with that for now."

"Yeah. This suits me."

Rei's reply, from the other side of the curtain, sounded not entirely displeased.

#buddy daddies #buddy daddies extra material

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fatuismooches · 30 days

Text

Currently having thoughts about duo playable Reader and Dottore's splash art.

The pose would be a dancing one, of course. Your hands would be intertwined together as he tilts you back, heels slightly off the floor. The background would be split in the middle for you and him too. Not sure exactly what because I'm not the best with aesthetics, but maybe something day and night related respectfully. Right in the middle, the two could mesh into a sunset. And of course, Foxttore is lying at the bottom with all the pufflings randomly scattered around too as Dottore tries not to trip on the creatures.

The transition in the demo to the splash art would be perfect. Surrounded by a bunch of enemies, you sigh in exasperation, just wanting to have a peaceful date for once with your beloved. But Dottore places his hand out to invite you to dance, and you happily accept. Normally, he doesn't waste his time and effort with such lowly opponents, but perhaps it would be fun for you two to put on a show for the audience, no? As he pulls you in, you two skillfully maneuver the dance floor, gliding in between the already unconscious (or dead) bodies blocking the path, dodging the arrows and attacks from the others as they watch on in confusion. Dottore twirls you around and boom - turns into the splash art. :3

(Demo ends with you two settling right back into the comfy picnic research date again, camera spanning to show the vast amount of fallen enemies. Until you complain about them ruining the view and therefore have to relocate to a new spot).

#smooches talks #dottore love notes <3 #playable reader <3 #ooh to be a playable character in genshin's demo...#delusion level: extreme #the way i actually looked up waltz poses for this #look i am not good at dancing in the slightest so just google for reference 🙏

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astyrial · 6 months

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an unlikely duo suna rintarō x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: you're forced to figure skate with a well known hockey player word count: 1.3k warnings: mentions of skate blades masterlist | requests are open part 2 / part 3

you've recently come to the conclusion that your hometown is far too obsessed with christmas events. one of them being that you have to perform a routine with a hockey player. one that has little to no finesse and lost the same lottery that you did (albeit, it was likely rigged by a close friend). your mind races with the thought of one of them accidentally slashing you while trying to perform with you.

a look of disgust crosses your face, and it goes far from unnoticed from your fellow figure skater, kiyoko, "it'll be fine, i have to perform with one too.."

"yea, but you get to perform with your husband. who, by the way, has practiced figure skating with you. i'll probably get some macho, skating is just for hockey players, kind of guy," you raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"it's going to be fine, y/n. i asked ryū if he thought the guy would be a good fit and he does! he doesn't know him super well, but this 'suna' seems like a nice guy."

you shake your head, walking back towards the changing rooms so that you can put your skates on. of course she believes he'll give glowing reviews, he's tanaka. he's probably the friendliest guy you know and is always up for helping kiyoko set you up with people.

"you're doubting me, and my husband, aren't you?" kiyoko catches up to you, leaving the cork board filled with papers behind.

with a short shrug, you turn to look at her, your eyebrows narrowed. every person that they set you up with in the past has not exactly been within your grasp. leaving you to awkwardly leave the date and never say anything again. now, though, you're forced to spend more than enough time with this mystery 'suna'.

"more like doubting that he'll be as nice as tanaka believes him to be-"

"you know, he's fine with you calling him ryū. we both love you a lot, y/n. and we're both just looking out for you. you're like the little sister i never asked for," kiyoko instantly begins to laugh, nudging your arm as you sit on the room's benches, your hands reaching for your skates.

your mouth sits open for a second, shaking your head, "unbelievable, i can't believe i've been betrayed like this."

kiyoko continues to laugh as she grabs her skates down, tying them around her ankles. you finish tying your own and slip your jacket off, turning to face her.

"so, when do we start practicing for this thing?"

"uh, well, today actually..." kiyoko doesn't look up at you, her lips pursed, her fingers still playing with her laces.

you narrow your eyes at her, an amazed laugh somehow coming out of your mouth. with a sharp, tsk, you lean back against the wall. today, that's hardly enough time to let you research the man. let alone enough time for kiyoko to give you a breather.

it takes you a moment, but finally, you gain enough composure to sigh and scratch the back of your neck. "you're so lucky i love you, because if not, i might've killed you just now," you lean forward as your elbows rest on your knees.

"sorry... i should've told you sooner, i mean i was on the committee. but i'm sure it'll be fine, you'll love him. in the meantime, how about we get started on the ice," kiyoko rests her hand on yours, a smile on her face.

while a part of you knows you should be upset, but you know you can never truly be angry at her. you intertwine your fingers with hers and give your hand a light squeeze. with a light tilt of your head and an over dramatic sigh, the two of you get out into the ice.

it's smooth, freshly run over by the zamboni. your skates glide over it as you breathe in the cold air. it circulates your lungs as you make a full circle around the rink. every morning that you go through this is a morning worth remembering. today will just be a little tainted by a certain individual encroaching on your space.

you take one spin, letting your blade dance atop the ice. when your other leg hits the ground, you feel the adrenaline already pumping through your veins. "you seem to already be having fun," kiyoko skates over to you, her signature smile on her face.

"cold air helps me get over my grievances easier," you shrug, scrunching up your nose as she rolls her eyes.

"good thing you'll be skating with suna then. plenty of cold air as you teach him how to do a twist-"

"a twist? yeah i'd rather be forced to do quadruple axel than have some hockey player throwing me through the air like i'm a doll. especially when they're not known for their elegancy," a sigh slips past your lips, your eyes wide open in surprise.

kiyoko shakes her head, looking past you for a second. you turn around, wondering what she's looking at. your eyes narrow as you see a few guys stroll into the skating rink. you look back at her and then back at them, "why are there three?"

"michimiya is late... she'll be here soon though. she's paired with daichi," kiyoko crosses her arms, skating around you, moving around.

you shrug your shoulders, rolling your eyes, "so everyone gets someone they know but me? they were best friends in high school. and i get some guy from who knows where and is probably annoying and will end up sending me to the floor."

"give him more credit than that, y/n. please, give him a chance, i promise he'll be okay. if not, then you can kill me," kiyoko brings her hand up to your shoulder and attempts to console you.

"fine, let's go meet him," you lean your head back, skating over towards the nearby benches.

they're completely empty due to the rink being closed for your practices. meanwhile, the three men make their way over, walking in a distinct line. tanaka stands in the front of the line and leads the two others towards where he'll get his skates on.

behind him is daichi, and in the very back seems to be the man named suna. his dark hair sticks out of a beanie, a large bag thrown around his shoulder. there's a certain lack of enthusiasm on his face (probably one that matches a soft frown lining your lips). there are wired headphones hooked up to what looks like an mp3 player.

you look back at kiyoko for a moment and sigh, rolling your eyes before finishing your skating to the side the rink. kiyoko immediately greets tanaka who reaches over the side to give him a hug. he is quick to give you a hello as well, a smile still wide on his face.

however, your eyes stay trained on your soon to be partner. he immediately pulls out his hockey skates and starts lacing them up. you wait for a moment before finally saying something, "uh, suna? i'm your partner for the event, l/n."

he doesn't look up, his eyes trained on his laces and his ears still filled with some music. you speak a little louder, repeating his name again to somehow gain his attention. once again, it goes unnoticed by the seemingly preoccupied hockey player.

you look over at kiyoko who is shrugging her shoulders, pursing her lips. with your eyes practically shooting daggers at her, you knock on the railing of the tink, "suna!"

"what?!" he finally looks up, his eyes wide in surprise at your loud attempt to catch his attention.

"i'm your partner for the event, l/n. how about you take out those headphones before you meet me on the ice?" you turn around, skating off before he has an attempt to say anything, mouthing 'asshat' to yourself.

#suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarō #suna x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfic #suna rintarou #suna rintaro fic

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himbocoups · 1 year

Text

˗ˋˏ Between Glitz and Glamour ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: love collects like the number of pearls on a string – scintillant under the shining spotlight, two ends clasped together to make one. however, one unforeseen tug can scatter the pearls, making them roll, bounce, and clack against the illegally sticky floors of the speakeasy. but one can’t help but chase the jewels, especially the one carved in the shape of lee jihoon.

member: lee jihoon

genre: angst, drama, romance, 1920s period piece | smut

tags: cursing, drunk characters, emotional constipation, food/drinks, jealousy, opposites attract, smoking, s2l // sax, settlements, and speakeasies | blindfold play, fingering, lap dances, mirror sex, oral, overstim, pet names (baby, daddy, whore...), pnv, pussy slapping, squirting...

wc: 15k

beta reader reviews: "OKAY DADDY I'M NOT GOING TO FIGHT YOU" - @multi-kpop-fanfics // "GODDDD I can't do this" - @heartkyeom // "HAHAHHAHAA FUCK IM IN TROUBLE" - @playmetheclassics

a/n: hihi you may see some recognizable characters sprinkled throughout the fic (hint @onlymingyus's duo). and giving a hugehugehuge thank you to my beta readers. this is a big piece I've been writing for months so thank you so much <33 chapters are separated and named by seasons for easy navigation - nu ♡

himbocoups's masterlist

one - spring

Sleek oiled hair with expensive Brilliantine and the tiny stray strand that falls from the slick that brushes against his forehead, the man’s Adam’s apple bobs and lowers as the man swallows another sip of his Manhattan. An amber drop seeps from his lips, seesawing on the rim of the stemmed cocktail glass he holds steady against his lips before racing downwards against the outside of the glass. He sets his drink on the sticky Oak tabletop before the drop of liquid can collect on his finger, never once breaking eye contact with his spoil for the night.

Dark brown eyes quickly flick from the woman’s eyes to his pant leg that rests against her inner heel, brushing against the open skin like a curtain as she unconsciously shifts her balance to her tiny kitten heel. She traces a manicured finger over his exposed collarbone, letting her hand glide downwards until it rests on his chest. Dorothy, she reminds him of her name, like the one from the novel. But he hasn’t read a novel since grade school, let alone hold one in his hand. He deceivingly nods like he understands her reference. Truthfully, he can’t even hear her over the live band and tonight’s drunk rowdy crowd in his speakeasy.

The Diamond Glass – an ironic name given the speakeasy’s connotations. Hidden in plain sight in the heart of the city, the speakeasy isn’t as transparent as the name suggests. And Lee Jihoon – as cunning as his cat-like features – operates his mom and pop grocery store front during the day and his speakeasy during the night, strictly and smoothly running his businesses like the automated belts in Ford’s motor car factories. A mastermind with too much money to blow and a throttle of criminal cohorts he calls his family, the man can’t help but let loose once in a while, especially when it comes to taking someone new home every so often.

And Dorothy, beautiful feathered brooch-wearing Dorothy with big brown eyes and arched eyebrows, is someone who Jihoon is willing to take home…or even in the kitchen pantry if he kicks the cooks out. But a disapproving look from his younger sister from across the bar is enough to give him second thoughts about taking her old classmate from high school home or anywhere, really. He clears his throat, two rough coughs with his hand brought up to his mouth, and peers at the woman in front of him. She doesn’t seem phased by the little break in their interaction and moves in to leave him a tiny product-stained peck along his jawline.

This action alone is enough to have him immediately forget about his sister’s disapproving looks and pull the lady into him by her waist, a tiny oop emitting from her matte-colored lips.

“Darling,” The word rolls smoothly off the tip of his tongue, landing softly against her cheek.

Before he can make another move on Dorothy, he feels a soft tap against the outside of his heel. And before he can even make the decision to ignore the tap, he hears the ever-so-familiar sound of shattering glass against his beloved speakeasy floors from across the room. The figure of a darting bouncer toward the center of the crowd and the manager, Seungcheol, following closely behind is enough for Jihoon to excuse himself from the self-proclaimed novel character Dorothy to attend to a crowd transforming into the shape of a circle.

He sees her for the first time in his life with her dirtied flimsy party dress, and the skirt under her knees, as she reaches around blindly for something probably important to her. There are a few clutched in her right hand, opalescent pearls, probably fake; her other hand is limp, tucked against her waist as if she doesn’t want anybody to notice her injury. He thinks if he turns his head back to Dorothy, he would be able to become ignorant of the fact that there’s shattered glass near the back of her heels, the same glass that he brought in the other day.

An entire five cents gone, just like that. He is forced to think, adding a note to his mental managerial book.

Mingyu probably kicked the man out, he hears a patron say to another person who asked. The man tried absinthe for the first time. Now he’s absent before the pianist can perform his set. Poor lady…poor lonely lady with her fine pearls. Heard that was the only drink she was clutching onto the whole night before the man knocked her over. Never seen her around before.

“Hey.” Seungcheol taps his boss’s shoulder, the other hand pinching the bridge of his nose in an act of annoyance. “Take her to get patched up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he scowls. “Manage your patrons better.”

Still, he shuffles over to his customer and lifts her up by the waist, heaving her onto the nearest bar counter, probably separating two people from their conversation. He doesn’t care if they complain, for all he cares, they already paid for their drinks.

“You didn’t have to set me on the counter,” she says while fiddling with the fabric of her dress, her eyes never looking down to meet his. “Just a scratch on my hand, that’s all.”

Someone passes him a bag of ice wrapped in a dishcloth. The bartender probably, she remembers. She remembered him complaining in passing about how it gets so rowdy in this speakeasy, yet they can never find the time to restock their simplest first aid supplies. Something about how the big boss is stingy, but he can’t complain because he’s getting paid well.

The palm which holds her injured hand is warm and a little rough around the tiny calluses, a stark contrast to the cold ice which hits her outer hand and the soft and regularly washed dishcloth which creates a nice barrier to stop the coldness from stinging.

“The fabric isn’t flimsy, you know. It just looks that way because of how I draped it.” The comment comes out of her mouth compulsively, as if she needed to somehow bring up the topic in case he was staying silent because he was silently judging her getup. She can’t read him well, not under the lights and not even when his eyes flick to every other woman except for her. “I can ice it myself.”

“Nonsense.” He is curt with his words. “This shouldn’t have happened to you. My workers should’ve been better at watching out for rowdy customers. Please accept my apology on their behalf. Write down your bank account number, and I’ll pay for your dry-cleaning and for a new string of pearls.”

She thinks that maybe he isn’t as stingy as Joshua says or alternatively, maybe he can say those things simply because he’s wealthy. Either way, Lee Jihoon is just as handsome as the crowd says. It would be such a loss if she didn’t use this chance to strike up a conversation with him. For all that matters, he would be onto the next gal the moment he’s finished taking care of her.

“Take me on a date,” she squeaks, heart pounding like footsteps on the pavement. “The pearls are fake, an-and I can clean the dress myself.”

“I don’t do dates, princess.”

“Then a non-date? With me.” This time, there is a bit more confidence in her tone. But it isn’t enough to shake him.

“Look.” He sighs and drops the melting ice bag onto the counter near her thigh. “You look like you’ve never stepped into a speakeasy before. You probably came here on a dare with one of your girlfriends from grade school, talking about how you need to step out of your comfort zone a little more and is now all balled up. I’m a criminal – dames like you should never be stuck on my bunch.”

“Then I’m a criminal for coming here voluntarily. Aren’t I?”

two - summer

Standing ovation.

He didn’t even know that a standing ovation could happen at a community theatre performance, but here he is, standing on the risers after the final Summer show, waiting for the second lead to finish talking to an important-looking man in fine business attire.

In his arms is a beautiful assembly of white and purple, a small handwritten card from the heart tucked in the middle of it all. This is the first time he attended a musical, and this is the first time he willingly attended anything for anybody outside of his family. Now he’s worried his sweaty palms left damp marks against the brown paper packaging of the bouquet he shopped for with his sister last night.

A couple of children’s costumes push against his backside while they run down the risers, but he doesn’t care. His eyes are trained on her – a light brown wig done in a giant updo with a giant white feathered attachment stuck at the very top and rosy floral clips trailing down the sides. Her stage makeup sparkles under the hot stage lights, a scintillant glow across the apples of her cheeks. She quickly maneuvers her flowers to one arm so she can reach her free hand out to receive the man’s business card. She thanks him as he walks away, leaving her in the middle of the stage, giggly and filled with glee. With brilliant white teeth and lips stretched thin, she practically bounces in her spot until she pauses for a minute, turning around to look for something or someone so important that she would rather share her happiness with them.

Maybe there is a part of him that wants to call out for her, for her to notice him then, and for her to notice him when he was in the crowd. He wants to convince himself that it shouldn’t be him who she’s looking for. But it’s not like Lee Jihoon would ever admit his feelings, not even months after spending time now and then with the tailoress who crawled on the dirty and sticky speakeasy floor to pick up her fake pearls.

God, her and her pearls, he thinks. There was no way he could ever end up with someone like her, practically floating around with her head in the clouds, dreaming about the day she would become a star. Too trusting of others, too gullible, too into him – he wonders why he would even allow himself to be cajoled into attending a stupid production by someone as idiosyncratic as her.

The tight grip around the metal rail loosens when she makes eye contact with him, eyes widening like her smile. And as vague as it sounds, it makes him feel lighter. Better even.

Noticing her friends crowd around her, he mouths “hallway” to her and slips into the darkness. He thinks it’s in his best interest if he doesn’t check to see if her eyes stayed trained on him when he left his place on the risers.

It’s not long until someone grabs his wrist guiding him along the hallway, past the green room, past the rest of the cast. Left behind in her wake is a trail of African Orange Flowers, Amalfi Lemon and Orange, and the powdery floral scent of the powder she uses to refresh her clothes. Coty’s Cyphre, the one she bought back in ’17 – her only perfume that she uses for special events. The liquid in the whimsical rectangular glass bottle that sits on top of her dresser is starting to turn a light amber hue, but she insists on saving each drop. It’s most condensed on the hand pulling his wrist, the same hand that slips downwards, interlocking both hands in a magnetic pull.

Finally seeing her up close, her big doe eyes staring at him and the meticulously swept-on stage makeup, he forgets he has flowers for her in his hands. He snaps out of his trance when he hears the soft muted crinkling of the brown paper packaging being removed from his arms. She stands in front of him in her empty dressing room, holding the bouquet like a newborn, and lowering her head to smell the flowers – eyes closed to breathe in the sweet floral scent deeply with a sigh.

“I uhh.” He quickly brings his right fist up to his mouth and clears his throat. “I liked the performance. It was nice.” He can’t look her in the eye – doesn’t even know what to say especially now that her dress’s strap slipped off her shoulder, bringing her collarbone into view. She must think he’s the daftest person in the world, and he almost crumbles at the thought of her seeing him through his hubris.

“What about me?” She blinks. Dropping her flowers on the counter where the wood meets a long wall of mirrors, she tests the waters by slowly crossing his threshold. One buttermilk-colored gloved hand glazes his tweed vest, but of course, she can never elicit a reaction from him. “What did you think about me?” She asks him, palm now fully against his vest.

If it were physically possible, Jihoon stutters without muttering a word – caught red-handed by the woman in front of him. Truth be told, he wasn’t really paying attention to the musical. Falling asleep during the last half of the first act and waking up when the orchestra started the entr’acte, he knew he should’ve stayed home after an especially rowdy night at the Diamond Glass. And he would have if it weren’t for his sister, who quite literally dragged him out of bed and kicked him to the curb.

I really don’t get why she likes you even though you’ve been dragging her along for around two months. You don’t even seem that interested in her, she told her older brother. So either end the situationship or make it a relationship. But after the musical! So don’t you dare come back until tomorrow morning…Seokmin’s coming over.

But what does he think about her? What does he think about the woman in the bouncy polka-dot dress whose entire being is too utterly obsessed with him, the one who only talks about her dreams while floating on her imaginary clouds, the one who buys cheap costume jewelry whenever she can hoping one day she would trade her precious pearl necklace for a new one? The one whose lips he has to cover while in bed because her vocal cords aren’t the only things that he’s plugging.

Simply put, he thinks her to be annoying. They have almost nothing in common. He cannot stand the fact that she’s so dizzyingly ditzy that she cannot go a day without dreaming or talking about the glitz and glamour of her potential stardom, living in a constant state of hypotheticals. She somehow latched onto his side like a cat’s claw in a woolen sweater or a parasite who is too cheerful and optimistic even on bad days. Yet, despite everything, he doesn’t mind having her by his side.

“Come on Hoonie,” she whines. “Tell me.”

God, how he hates that nickname. Usually, he would tell her off for using that nickname but she’s a couple of centimeters away from completely pressing herself against his frontside, and the only thing he can concentrate on is definitely not her performance.

But it doesn’t matter anyway. While a celebration happens on the main stage, in an empty dressing room, two people try to devour each other like it is the last time they would ever meet. A few fallen stray petals crumple under the sole of his shoe as he rubs himself between her closed legs. Groaning as he feels her squeeze him between her bare thighs, sliding with ease as her warm juices lubricate his naked organ, he covers her mouth from behind as he slowly pushes himself into her.

And everything feels warm, hot – clothed bodies pressed against each other, the row of bright lights above the wall of vanity mirrors, her breath as she moans into his large palm over her mouth, and her spongy inside that often invites him in secret. The habitually voluble woman is reduced to nothing under his touch and tries to refrain from audibly moaning, knowing that she would be punished if she were loud.

So she finds something exciting in whimpering into the open air, feeling him twitch inside of her with every mewl that enters his ear as he slowly fucks himself into her. The more high-pitched she gets, the more it arouses him to the point where he completely loses his nonchalant front. The hand which once covered her mouth is now tilting her chin upwards as his other hand grabs her by her waist. And he watches through the mirror how her eyes roll upward as he ruts himself into her, smirking at how she melts against his chest, aching and begging him for more.

That isn’t to say that maybe the thought of how good the reflection of the two of them together looks crossed his mind once or twice. But he pushes the thought aside like the rest of his feelings for her and instead pushes deeper into her, moaning when he feels her convulse around him.

“Ah fuck babe,” she gasps while her knees bend towards each other, palms pressed against the mirror as she recovers from her high.

“Watch your language,” he instinctively mumbles, pushing her forward so that her elbows rest on the vanity. He lifts the hem of her skirt above her ass, bunching the costume fabric in his hand and laying it on top of her back. Her use of his pet name completely slips his mind as he sighs while slipping back inside of her, feeling the tight cushiony cunt squeeze around his cock. Any tighter he might have to fuck her on the floor to stop losing feeling in his legs.

The louder the party is downstairs, the more confident she is in moaning out loud. And the sounds coming from her mouth fuels his lust. His cock feels hard as hell, and he is so close to finishing. A trail of profanities rains from his mouth, praising her, commanding her, and telling her how he feels at this moment. And she smiles that lazy smile reflected in the mirror as she hiccups while the tip of his organ threatens to penetrate more than just her walls.

“Be mine, yeah?” She manages to ask him while he pulls her head back, her fake pearl necklace coming into view.

“You’re asking? Fuck. Okay fu-Jesus. Bend over. M-more for me, baby. More.”

With one easy yank, the brown wig slides off her head and collects in his fist. He thinks nothing of it and drops it on the floor next to a pile of fallen audition flyers, continuing to ram into her from behind, never missing a beat. Jostled around with each hard thrust, each remaining bobby pin that once held her wig in place fall to the floor one after the other.

Plink. Puh-link. Plink.

The answer to her original question is still left unanswered.

three - summer

“So, when is your girlfriend coming?”

Lee Jihoon looks up from the several small plates of food in front of him to see his younger sister cocking an eyebrow at him before she looks at the spread of food he prepares. Quick to notice the slight pout of her lips and the soft twitch of her eyebrows, he knows a light-hearted complaint is about to come out of her mouth.

“It’s a double date, but you’re only serving us canapés. What do you want me to do? Starve?” She places a hand on her hip in disbelief.

“I never said it was a double date,” he corrects her while swatting one of her hands away from the deviled eggs, never batting an eye. “I only said we are going to taste test new finger foods for the speakeasy.”

“And the girlfriend?” She sneaks a bruschetta from one of the plates when he looks away, dumping the pile of finely diced tomatoes tossed with balsamic vinegar and spices into her mouth before following it with the piece of soggy-crunchy bread she holds. “W- where is sphe?” She asks him with her mouth full, swiping the edge of her mouth with the side of her pointer finger.

“Finishing an audition so she’ll be a bit late,” his tone is as monotonous as ever. He doesn’t pay her any mind, not when he’s stressing over minuscule plates of finger food.

It is a particularly slow Thursday night. The grocery store’s customers start to dwindle as Seokmin helps the remaining customers checkout their items before he can close the shop to restock and sneak his boss’s girlfriend into the speakeasy. And the younger sister who stands in the kitchen behind the speakeasy’s bar can’t help but stare at her older brother who somehow manages to assemble different types of small plates for four people at once. But it’s the fact that no amount of magnesium can fix his almost permanently clenched jaw that she knows something is bothering him.

“Hmm…” She takes his used cutting board and a stack of dirtied plates away from his area to bring to the sink to rinse. “I don’t like it,” she tells him while dropping the stack in the sink, wincing at the crashing sound.

“The bruschetta you stole?” He asks over his shoulder. Albeit, the way his tone angles upwards at the end, a squeak that he tries to hide by clearing his throat, is a clear tell that the quality of the food, or at least something related to tonight, greatly concerns him.

“No. It’s actually really good.” She restacks the dishes in the sink, thinking that it would be better to wash them all at once after dinner. “I was talking about you. Something’s bothering you.”

“You’re bothering me.” He frowns in his spot, bending over to adjust the garnish on one of the plates. “Go bother Seokmin. He’s probably crying while he’s running the grocery store alone without you by his side.”

“He’s a big boy. He can handle it,” she muses, humming while wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“I’m telling you to climb up your thumb.”

“And I’m telling you that you have girl problems.”

Before he can turn around to confront his sister about minding her own business, two familiar voices enter the speakeasy from the hidden hallway connecting the employee room of the grocery store to the speakeasy’s office. Head perking upwards like a sleeping cat when they hear the familiar clinking of keys on a chain when one unlocks the front door, Lee Jihoon’s entire attitude and disposition seem to shift into the positive. And the sister almost snickers at the sight.

---

Clearly less stressed than before, Lee Jihoon still walks around more reserved than usual. He left the small talk to the others and only chimed in when spoken to. But the one hand that found a home around her waist, on her shoulder, in her hand, said something otherwise. And maybe it’s not a lie when others say that being around your favorite person could make all your worries go away. The way that his tiny fangs come into view when she gushes about her audition, the unnoticeable squeeze he gives her hand when she talks about calling off sick for work in order to practice for the audition, and the blush on top of his already flushed face when she tells the other couple that she couldn’t have done it without him by her side…it did make his worries go away, at least for the time being.

Two hours later, the siblings are once again in the speakeasy’s kitchen, cleaning the used and empty dishes while the other two chat away near the stage where they plan for a duet in the future. There is an empty bottle of homemade red wine left to dry next to the dish rack. He sits by himself on the stool near the sink, holding a half-filled wine glass in one hand, promising to finish off the rest of the bottle by himself before his team comes in to open the speakeasy within the next hour.

“Hey, be honest. What’s eating yo-”

“She told me she loved me this morning.” He cuts off his sister’s question while staring at his sorry expression through the soft reflection against the burgundy-red liquid.

“Oh…OH?” She doubles back.

“I wasn’t able to reciprocate it,” he sighs. “It came out of nowhere.”

There isn’t anywhere to sit so she decides to squat next to him, taking the glass out of his hands so she can finish it for him. Of course, she would be worried about the man who never seemed to be able to keep a relationship or even enter one look so distraught over a quip in his relationship. Finding out it was about the question of love, she can’t help but pry more out of him, never experiencing this kind of talk with her older brother in the past. But when she sees his eyes squint at the hem of her everyday dress draped across the dirty kitchen placemats and him immediately getting up from his stool so she could sit, she knows that he would be fine.

“What’s next? Do you think you’ll have to break up with her?” She tries to push his buttons.

“No.” He hears the familiar tuning note in the distance, echoing throughout the empty speakeasy. “Maybe I would be able to reciprocate it someday,” he mumbles while scratching the side of his head.

She chugs the rest of the wine, earning a disapproving look from her older brother, and rinses the glass in the sink.

“I think I’ll have my gentleman walk me home now…leave you to work.”

He takes her glass out of the sink and immediately washes it again, not trusting that she could truly clean it in her inebriated state.

“Make sure he gives you his jacket. It’s starting to get chilly outside.”

“How can it be chilly? It’s only the beginning of Summer.”

“Also, don’t walk. Take my breezer keys from my office drawer,” he tells her while she hugs him goodbye. “And tell him to drop her off, yeah? She must be tired.”

“From the audition?”

“Yeah…the audition.”

“Are you sure you don’t love her?” She squeezes his shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it, okay?”

“I-” He looks like he is about to say something but drops the notion. “Get home safe.”

It comes out like a sigh – a dilatory action to avoid her question.

four - summer

There are only a few ways to command a room in a crowded speakeasy on an especially sweltering hot July Summer night. And only a few can truly get the room to become so quiet that everybody inside can hear conversations outside of the sturdy soundproof walls of the speakeasy.

She stands onstage next to one of the lead singers of the week. Seungkwan, the lead’s name, tries to pry open the newspaper to the right page but struggles to find any grip between the smooth-printed paper and his dry fingertips. The action causes the crowd to groan, but a singular and sharp shh sound emitted from the speakeasy’s owner’s mouth at the back of the crowd causes the entire crowd to acquiesce and grow silent again.

Seungkwan swipes the tip of his pointer finger across his tongue and rubs the wetness against his thumb. The younger man smiles when he finds his grip and immediately flips to the right page, right to the location of the musical advertisement. He shifts his body away from the eager dame, oscillating ball to heel, who is dressed like a patron of the Ritz just for this special occasion. Left pointer finger skimming through the cast members, he skips ahead and heads straight to the ensemble.

From the crowd beneath the stage, one could see the top of the singer’s head, eyebrows, and a pair of eyes right above the top of the newspaper. The man on the stage holds the newspaper to the crowd, showing them the content like a schoolteacher reading to their class.

“Ensemble!” he yells. “And the understudy for the lead!”

The ebullient cheers that follow the announcement fill the speakeasy – a newfound cause for celebration. A regular in this establishment is about to star in a mainstream musical and they are all about to get bragging rights. And the dame whose name is printed on thousands of newspapers stands on stage, quite clearly in shock. Lace-gloved hands covering her mouth and the recovered fake pearl necklace hanging from her neck, she can only allow tears of joy, of jubilation, to fill a reservoir in her eyes. Months of hard work, hours upon hours of practice, sore muscles, and a dream to work toward – there’s a realized catalyst to her belief that nothing that she had worked toward, worked for, and dreamed about had ever gone to waste.

And he, Lee Jihoon, continues to stand in his place at the back of the Diamond Glass, unmoving like the Statue of Liberty. He sees his Ritzy moll under the spotlight, shining, scintillating in all her newfound glory. Where he would usually be focusing on the crowds of men with fat pockets rushing to the bars, he can’t help but keep his eyes on his girlfriend.

His mouth moves on its own. Opening. Tongue touching the back of his front teeth. The last syllable forms a pout. Three words formed without any sound.

The thing is, she sees him. Even from the stage in the front of the room, the only person she can clearly see silently supports her from the back of the crowd. To her, he is, and always will be, her only glowing entity in the pitch dark. And she directs a fabulous smile at him. She knows.

---

“F-fuck!” Her stomach jolts when she feels his thick fingers exiting her leaking cunt.

“Aww my baby is so vulgar, isn’t she? Wanting to fuck in public while everybody else is getting drunk and celebrating her?”

The owner of the Diamond Glass leans back into the beautiful moss green leather executive chair with the cherry wood elements that his workers gifted him on his past birthday. Spread across his matching cherry wood desk are the gams belonging to the woman the entire speakeasy is celebrating. And the new musical actress shudders at the feeling of her naked and throbbing core against the cold office air while she lies with her back against the desk, dress pulled up and bunched around her breasts. And he smirks in his seat, his left hand moving to his neck to loosen his necktie while his right hand reaches into his desk drawer to draw out a long wooden object.

“Left or right hand, baby?” He asks her while palming himself in his seat, his zipper already down and his erection dripping with precum.

“L-Left,” she stutters while staring at the ceiling, heart beating fast.

“Left what?” He spreads his thighs a little more, relaxing into his seat while he slowly strokes himself to the fleshy sight in front of his face.

“Daddy,” she chokes, her back arching off the wooden surface, fake pearl necklace clacking against the desk, her wanting to feel anything and to be given anything by the man who sits behind his desk.

He moves the oblong object into his left hand and rubs the precum off his head with the pad of his right thumb. Like a painter branding their work of art, Jihoon marks her soft nub with his precum, smearing it on her as if he is marking his territory. And she moans from his touch, every inch of her body prickling with heat.

Thinking for a couple of seconds while stroking himself with his right hand, he finally decides, “We’re not leaving this room until we see your pretty pussy squirt on daddy. Hold still for me Sweetheart.”

With no time for her to react, he brings the object down on her opening, fast. The slapping sound of the wooden ruler against her fragile clit rings throughout the room – threatening to drown out the sounds of people partying on the other side of the guarded door. The euphonic sound of her squealing, the way her thighs close and immediately open like the whore she is, only edges him more.

He slaps her pussy again, bringing down the makeshift paddle quickly. Then again. And again.

She cries in response, tears leaking down the sides of her face as she calls out to him Daddy, daddy, yes! Daddy – s-shit. Please! More! Use me. Withering in her spot, she feels nothing but the euphoria and the stinging sensation that makes her sex clench, builds her high, and causes her eyes to roll to the back of her head. And he relishes in watching and hearing her positively react, feeling his high build in the palms of his hands.

However, like the businessman he is, he thinks what is in front of him is not enough. So he drags his heavy seat closer to his desk till his face is directly in front of her cunt when he is seated. And he knows that he didn’t take that much time to adjust his seat, but her fingers are already dipping into her sopping cunt without permission – a dainty middle finger slowly and repetitively entering her sex and pulling out while she sighs in relief.

Irritated by her actions, he uses his precious ruler to nudge her hand away from her cunt. He drops his ruler on his desk and immediately, by bringing his empty hand against her cunt and feeling her jolt under his fingers, pulls his hand back to slap her again.

“Whore.”

This single word leaves his mouth, laced with disgust. But it causes her to reach her high, her body jolting as she comes. He uses this moment to put his face against her cunt, burying his tongue in her folds, licking and prodding while his strong hands grab hold of her thighs to steady her while she shakes against the tabletop. He lets himself be buried in her cunt, pushing his nose against her nub and lapping her juices like it’s his only source of water. Teasing her with the tip of his tongue, he kitten licks her cunt until she shakes under his hands and sends a long and flat stripe up her folds.

Overstimulated by him eating her out while she orgasms, by him punishing her by sticking his tongue up her vagina, all she can do is slur her cries – so, so, so entirely intoxicated by him against her sex. And the frail cry turns into a scream when he pulls out his tongue and slaps her one last time – the sharp pain against her bodily exhaustion causes her to squirt, wave after wave, coating his unbuttoned button down and lubricating his open and exposed chest.

Her high blinds her so much that the can only see the deep red marks his fingers left on the outside of her thighs and the splotchy purple along her inner thighs when she recovers in the morning.

And the poor part-time bouncer, the law student with the circular glasses, can only keep a stoic face as he stands on the other side of the door. Because he knows that if he even reacts, even hints to others why he is guarding the office door, he would suffer a fate a lot worse than being fired from his boss’s precious speakeasy.

five - fall

He arrives home at around two in the morning and finally gets to enter the comfort of his bed at around three. The girlfriend who was lying in bed awake, waiting for her boyfriend to come home, is now completely lost as to why her sweetheart would even start an argument with her saying that she should have gone to bed without him. For months now, all she wanted was communication from someone who loves knowing everything and every single detail about everybody around him, but she can never seem to scratch more than his surface-level answers. And everything she does at that moment, including being awake for him, seems to tick him off even more than it should. And she is frustrated, not knowing what to do or how to confront him.

“You’re upset,” she points out.

“I’m not upset,” he retaliates, his tone a lot harsher than how he meant it to sound.

“You didn’t call me ‘Babe.’ You didn’t greet me when you came home.” She sits up from her side in his bed, the bedsheets falling just below her neckline. She hugs the sheets tightly to her chest. “You’re clearly upset.”

Truth be told, Lee Jihoon is definitely upset. They are in the middle of their first mini-argument, but it is hard to even begin a full-fledged fight when one side is extremely talkative and open about their feelings while the other side is the polar opposite. And the polar opposite in this situation only wants to sleep in his king-sized bed, too tired to even talk to her. Because in his heart, he knows that he would accidentally take his frustrations built from an amalgamation of happenings out on her through his language, and he knows that the only way to avoid that outcome is to avoid her altogether.

Continuing to look at his ceiling, he stubbornly ignores the woman he holds so precious to his heart, thinking that it would be better that way.

“Lee Jihoon,” she says his full name. “Talk to me. Why won’t you talk to me?”

Muscles tense under his blanket when he hears his name, and he stiffens in his place in bed. He can feel her getting more upset with every second he spends ignoring her – but it’s not like she isn’t used to him ignoring her. That’s how their relationship started anyway.

He knows he could just tell her. He knows he doesn’t even need to look her in the eyes to talk to her, to tell her how much of a bad day he has had. Just a couple minutes explaining how he is upset because the police stopped his men from unloading the grocery stock truck when they mistook the contents of the truck for alcohol, how the police almost found out about the speakeasy, how Seokmin proposed to his sister without his permission, and how he punched Seokmin would have been enough to put the both of them at ease.

But he is as hardheaded as they come, and he doesn’t have an answer for her – he doesn’t know why he won’t share his feelings with her.

A scintillant flash glimmers at the corner of his eye, and his bedroom is much too dark for any regular object to be shining so brightly. So he turns his head toward the object only when it catches his eye another time.

Lo and behold are two brilliant diamonds sitting proudly on her earlobes. And for a man who has seen all of his girlfriend, he has never seen them before – no matter how small they are.

“What are those?” he asks her, sitting up to get a better look at the earrings. And he frowns when he sees something prominent missing from her neck. “Where’s your pearl necklace?”

“Tossed it,” she answers a little too nonchalantly for his liking – as if the necklace that she always wore around her neck as a reminder that she would make it big and replace it with a chain of real pearls someday meant absolutely nothing to her.

“What?” His mouth is agape. His stubborn demeanor attenuates while his curiosity slowly appears.

He thinks that she’s joking – playing a little prank on him. But when he sees her staring at her manicured fingertips, pushing back her cuticles with her thumb, he can only accept the fact that she may not be joking. And it stings him a little because of the number of times she firmly turned his offer to buy her a piece of jewelry – a pearl necklace – as a gift, taking umbrage at his thoughtful request.

“Oh, Hoonie. I know you’re about to lecture me about sticking to my dreams. But I got my first big paycheck from the musical, and I saw how glittery and beautiful the diamond earrings looked at Tiffany’s in the department store so I had to buy them.”

Suddenly, his skin under his latest sleepwear under his heavy duvet blanket feels unbearably hot. He feels agitated by her actions even though it doesn’t pertain to him at all. And even more so, he finds himself furrowing his eyebrows at the way she shifted from being upset with him not wanting to talk to her to suddenly forgetting about her anger just because of some real diamonds from the cheapest section. The thought of everything upsets his stomach and makes his jaw clench so hard that one accidental budge could grind his molars flat.

He knows that he can be a bit of an ass all the time and that before he took their relationship seriously he was still flirting with other women while she stupidly latched onto his arm in his speakeasy. He hates hearing his workers tease him about becoming the type of man who would finally settle down with a lovely dame. Nevertheless, her name used to only form from his lips, while they now form from the innermost portion of his heart. And still spends nights wondering how the hell someone like him can manage to fall in love with someone like her – especially the “live in the moment” type of person.

“Aww,” she whines while shaking his right arm. “I know you’re doing your dumb calculations in your head. It’s fine. I still have leftover money from when I worked two jobs.” She pauses and continues in a sultry voice, holding his right hand in one hand while she tiptoes her fingers along his bicep, “And, I also had enough money left over from this shopping spree to make another purchase.”

She moves before he can ignore her out of spite, letting her bedsheets fall to the mattress as she stands on her knees. Under the yellow light emitting from the art deco nickel-plated lamp from Jihoon’s bedside is a silhouette, a shadow of her figure, cast against the wall. Milk yellow satin bows that sit on top of her shoulders keep her chemise from falling. And the lingerie itself, a square neckline lined with thin hand-embroidered lace, cinches at the waist and drops downwards in a pillowy-soft see-through fabric. The same thin hand-embroidered lace forms garters around her thighs, holding up knee-high socks with tiny bows sewn in the front.

“You don’t want this?” She teases him by letting go of his hand to trace a finger along her neckline.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, holding out his right hand for her to take again. “Of course I want you. Let me take care of you tonight.”

“No, Love.” She crawls over to him, moving her right thigh over his legs until she straddles his hips. Griding down on him, she places her hands around his neck. “Let me.”

Not able to keep his cool-headed persona, his head tips backward so a soft moan can naturally escape his lips. On his lap is the weight of her entire body – random atoms bundled so tightly, creating cells, creating organs, creating and completing the love of his life. He misses her pearls, the stupid piece of cheap jewelry that tarnishes with every scratch against hard surfaces – like his skin when her nails dig into them, leaving bright and stinging red trenches masked by the fire he feels at his core.

The love of his life on top of him, feeling and teasing herself, calling herself names that may never leave the bedroom…he almost wants to bend her over the bathroom sink to wash her mouth, scrub it raw, and peck the pouty lips and then the eyelids where her lashes tickle his bottom lip. Reveling in his private lap dance as much as a man can at half-past three in the morning, he can only stare at her with so much love that the feeling alone sucks and strips away the color in the life around him. And when his mouth is stuffed with her soaked undergarment and she reaches for his pants, he knows he is done for.

Bedsheet roughly thrown to the side, and the weight of its fall knocks over today’s unread paper placed towards the edge of the nightstand. The paper falls to the floor along with the bedsheet and opens to the entertainment page. Leading Lady FIRED, the headline reads. A summary of the contents is as follows: leading lady was fired because she was caught auditioning for another role while she was supposed to be at practice for her current musical, her no-name understudy will take over her role for the rest of the season, and critics hypothesize either the birth of a new shining star or the failure of an entire production caused by a chain of events.

six - fall

A giant star follows the signature that finishes with a flourish, etched with the black expensive ink from the solid gold Sheaffer “Propel – Repel – Expel” Pencil from the Giftie Set that is supposed to come out at the end of October for this upcoming holiday season. The owner of the receipt that is now etched with the signature of someone famous thanks the musical actress again – still trying to fathom how such a famous actress shops at the same local grocery store as she does – before leaving through the front door.

Chic coffee-colored suede fabric of the light long coat in Philippe et Gaston’s winter collection – not yet released and imported straight from Paris – flows and flaps against the current that rushes in when the patron with the signature leaves the grocery store. Once again, the coat peacefully settles right above her calves when the wind breaks its trail. The actress tucks her pen back in its leather case where the second pair of the Giftie Set is missing – in fact, the matching retractable fountain pen rests in the lapel of the grocery store owner’s coat at all times. She drops the case in her black clutch and snaps it close. Old cut, 0.40-carat yellow and platinum diamonds – two of them in oval drops – collect and accentuate the front of her open collar, gifted by her loving boyfriend. They sparkle against the afternoon sunlight that shines through the shop’s open windows, glimmering and glistening like the love they are meant to represent.

The understudy-turned-leading lady adjusts how her white cloche hat sits on top of her head before turning to look at Seungcheol who leans against the wall behind the cashier counter, furiously whispering into the telephone. It seems as if he doesn’t want to be disturbed, or even be acknowledged. He quickly hangs up the phone and rushes through the backdoor, straight to his boss’s office.

The second owner of the store, the sister, recommends the newspaper with the musical reviews to a customer. There’s a sly smile on her face, the hidden excitement of knowing that the actress whose glowing musical reviews in the newspaper is only a few feet away. Still, she maintains her polite and professional front.

Softly humming to herself while walking around the store, the actress thinks about the items she wants to pick up for her new agent before she meets him for the first time at the radio station. She settles on a soft drink for him and water, no, tea for herself before going to the counter where her fake sister-in-law waits.

“You waiting for Hoon?” the younger one asks while grabbing a brown paper bag from under the counter.

“Yeah,” she sighs while unclasping her bag so she can reach in to grab her coin pouch. “I was supposed to remind him about the radio show today, but he left the house in a rush. I rang him a few times, but I couldn’t even reach him.” She shakes her head while unzipping her coin pouch with her gloved hands.

The cashier tsks and pushes the outstretched hand with the coins away, “Just take the bag. You know my brother will come for my head if he finds out you visited and paid for something. How can I wear a veil during my wedding if I don’t have a head?”

“And you know it hurts my dignity knowing that I can afford at least two drinks,” she pushes back. “Plus, Seokmin would love you even without that pretty head of yours.”

“Take the bag, and bunk off. Dingus,” she mutters, her cadence eerily mirroring that of her brother’s.

“Don’t call her a Dingus.” Jihoon’s voice appears out of nowhere. He finishes tying his apron around his back before shoving his sister to the side. “Only I can call her Dingus.”

“Nobody can call me a Dingus,” the girlfriend remarks and proceeds to drop her coins in the tip jar before taking her bag of drinks from the counter. “Flag me a cab, yeah? I came to remind you about today’s show.”

Immediately acquiescing to her request, he nods his head and quickly scrambles to meet her on the other side. He grabs the paper bag from her arms, afraid that it may be too heavy for her, and guides her to the front of the store. From there, he brings his thumb and pointer finger together and puts them between his lips, whistling loudly to flag a cab.

“Today at three,” he smiles at her. “I didn’t forget.”

A cab pulls to the curb before he can strike up a conversation with her, and he has no choice but to help her in the cab and hand the paper bag back to its owner. And it hurts him a little more when the cab driver drives off before he can kiss her on the cheek. But watching her head pop out of the window while the cab drives away and that big smile of hers coupled with a waving hand, he can’t help but feel like the luckiest man on this Earth.

---

“You closed the shop early and demanded us to come in not for training but because of your girlfriend?” Chan, the part-time bouncer slowly asks as if he is trying to understand his boss’s thought process. “Hoonie wants us to help him get a radio shout-out from his kitten? Meow?”

Mingyu immediately tosses the student over his shoulder and heads over to the speakeasy before Jihoon can physically lunge at his worker. Seungcheol, who may be the only employee who can physically restrain the man without getting fired, lets go of Jihoon when Mingyu and Chan are finally gone.

“Anybody who stays for the entire duration gets a bonus,” Jihoon growls while straightening his collar.

The rest of the group nods and mumble among themselves as their boss adjusts the radio they have all crowded around to the correct frequency. Instantaneously, a familiar laugh fills the tense atmosphere and eases everybody it reaches.

Wow. I can’t believe both of you knew what you wanted to be and where you wanted to go since you were kids, the radio host recounts. Your parents must be so proud.

They are. A masculine voice – the seasoned musical lead. They have a collection of posters from all of the musicals I’ve been in…signed by the cast and everything. They’re so special to me.

That’s so sweet of them to do so, the host responds. Speaking of special people, and I’m pretty sure everybody tuning in wants to know, does our leading lady currently have someone special?

Jihoon’s ears perk up when he hears the question and immediately glow bright red when he notices several pairs of eyes trained on him. He shoots a glare at his crowd before awkwardly adjusting in his seat while he waits for his beloved to respond.

Oh, me? She giggles. I’m happily single.

And the answer shocks everybody – the grocery store becomes so quiet that you can only hear the hums emitting from the refrigerators.

So you’re saying if you’re single and your handsome co is also single, the host presses, then that means there’s a chance that the two of you could possibly become a couple by the end of your season?

Laughter – hearty guffaws from the radio and small awkward hiccups on the other end of the radio.

I mean, the host recounts, word on the street is that there are quite a few kiss scenes in this musical. Not to mention the chemistry the two of you share on stage and off stage. No wonder it’s so popular!

The door to Jihoon’s office slams shut, echoing throughout the establishment. It is only then that the employees of the Diamond Glass finally notice that their boss has angrily left the scene.

seven - fall

Holding her jaw open with one hand, Jihoon bends over and watches his spit fall onto her awaiting tongue, how the liquid bubbles and collapses against the papillae of the muscular organ. Once he shuts her mouth, his hand moves back to her throat where he can clearly feel the way her Adam’s apple bobs against the palm of his hand when she swallows his spit.

Every time he squeezes her esophagus, her velvet walls clench and flutter around his cock while she prays and begs him to take off her blindfold.

But he doesn’t respond. Even when he hears her beg, her: Daddy, Daddy, please. Please take off my blindfold so I can be a proper slut, so you can ruin my pussy. Use me, please. He doesn’t budge. Not today.

Tonight, Lee Jihoon is not taking any requests: he only has one goal on mind.

He has her body memorized – the familiar feeling of hitting the exact spongy part to cause her to orgasm, how much pressure the rough pads of his fingertips must exert on her clit. He rolls his hips for her to take him in deeper until his throbbing tip reaches an end, and he extracts himself and thrusts inwards without pause. The hand around her neck loosens and travels downwards towards her breasts, cupping, squeezing, and pinching the nipples until they turn into sore and hard little nubs. He massages them and watches how they fill the gaps between his fingers with every rough squeeze.

She’s as loud as ever. Back arching, she begs her boyfriend to make her feel good instead of playing with her. She’s already tired of being used despite her excessive begging.

As much as he knows exactly how to make her come undone, he knows exactly the steps he has to take to make himself feel good in her. And he grabs both thighs, pushing them back and spreading them wide to give himself a better angle. Roughly, he rocks his hips into her tight little pussy with so much force that it sends her sliding a few inches backward, the bed creaking.

“Oh- FUCK!” she gasps.

Thrusting aggressively, he bites his bottom lip while he stares at the headboard ahead of him. His fingers dig deep into her thighs and she struggles to moan as her entire body jostles up and down in repeated motions. Everything comes out in segments.

He fucks her roughly and without any ounce of kindness. And when her pussy could clamp around his cock just a few moments ago, it fails to hold on the more she becomes his personal fucktoy instead of his girlfriend. She’s confused and horny, her pussy feeling sore yet amazing while being ripped apart by his thick and veiny cock; he’s close to his release.

The thing is, she’s not even close to coming when his hips jerk and buck in place before he finishes in her. He silently pulls out, rolls off his condom, ties it, and tosses it in the trash can while leaving her in bed. He doesn’t even give her a second glance when he tells her he is headed for the roof.

“What the fuck,” she mutters under her breath while she plants her feet against the mattress. She rips the blindfold off her face and decides that if he’s not going to help her finish, she would do it herself.

If he doesn’t need her, then she sure as hell doesn’t need him.

---

She watches him from the door to the roof as he inhales and lets the pillowy smoke flow out of his mouth. It’s interesting to her how the length of a couple of days can turn two people, as close as they are, into complete strangers. And she is lost as to how such a loving man, no matter how cold he may seem to those who aren’t acquainted with him, could ever act as if his love for her somehow became conditional.

People say that love can keep people even in the coldest and darkest places warm. Maybe she does believe it to be true, but now, staring at the man she loves the most from a few feet away, the warmth feels more like a memory than a presence. Midnight air nips at her skin, raising goosebumps and causing her arm hairs to stand straight, while he looks blissful or at least contented to be alone with his pack of cigarettes. She doesn’t even know that he had a pack on him.

People also say that love can make you become either really brave or really dumb, but that’s like comparing apples to oranges. Even she is confused about whether or not confronting him at the top of his brownstone tonight is the bravest or dumbest thing she can do. But her actions happen before she can really register what is it that she wants from him.

“Is this about me not kissing you before I got into the cab the other day?” Okay, at least it comes off as a passive joke to hide her anger. “It’s because we were in public.”

“Since when have you ever cared about kissing in public?” he gruffs, making it a point to turn his body away from hers.

His irritable attitude towards her makes her tick. And she scoffs, “Stop bullshitting me, Jihoon. If you miss a kiss, then you can make up for it later on. And I did.” She marches towards the side he is facing and leans against the half-wall balcony. “Remember how we promised to always be open about what’s bothering us? Like the night where I bought the diamond earrings and you were pissed about the engagement?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault.” He rolls his eyes. His temper isn’t the best either.

“When the fuck did I say it’s your fault?”

“Watch your mouth,” he mutters.

“Watch my mouth?” she criticizes his hypocrisy. “You won’t even open your mouth to tell me about what’s bothering you. What am I? Some sort of scapegoat for your anger?”

“My anger?” he asks, pointing at himself with the hand that holds his cigarette between his knuckles. His question is rhetorical as well as the answer, but his ego refuses to accept the fact that she isn’t wrong.

“Yes, your anger,” her voice suddenly calmed. “Please work with me here. Can’t you see I’m trying to solve whatever this is between us? Is it because of Jeonghan’s comment? About how he heard about the unscripted kiss during one of our scenes?”

“So it was real,” he scoffs, turning his head to look at the view ahead of him. He wishes that the soft breeze which tickles and ruffles the tops of the several rows of trees below him can also whisk him away from this conversation.

“Acting, Jihoon. It was just us acting.” She can’t believe the productive conversation she imagined having with his is taking a turn for the worst.

“Why don’t you just date him instead because, apparently, I’m not your boyfriend anymore.” His retort is unfairly childish, but it implies some of his underlying concerns are slowly making their way to his surface. His mouth tastes dry and the warm and fuzzy high he felt before she disturbed his peace is already gone. He taps the ashes away against the brick edge before bringing the bud to his lips again.

“Is this what was bothering you the whole time? The scripted radio show?” She sighs and brings her hand up to her temple to pinch and rub away the pain. Instead, she only feels a swelling sensation form and collects in the inner corners of her eyes. “It was the first time I met this new agent. And I had to listen to him because of his experience in the industry. He said that revealing our relationship might ruin my career, especially taking into consideration how hard I’ve worked for it. So I couldn’t discuss the boyfriend thing with you ahead of time because it was sprung on me the minute I sat down with him.”

To her side is a man who had grown accustomed to having a cup of tea every morning instead of his usual cup of coffee after learning that his girlfriend doesn’t drink coffee. A man who regularly keeps his kitchen shelves stocked with various teas around the world as his way of saying how much he loves her, he could help but appease his curiosity as to what some measly leaves could offer to a person. The difference in caffeine made him feel a bit woozy at first, a remarkable We should call you Woozi with an I from the way you keep slipping in and out of consciousness from the one called Vernon. But now, he finds pleasure in walking around with a white mug, the tea bag’s string expertly looped twice around the top of the mug’s handle, tucked between his knuckles and mug.

She knows how much of an asshole he can be, how hard it is for him to physically say “I love you” when others are around, and how he finds it challenging to even begin to open up and talk about his problems. But it may be her greatest downfall, believing that she could completely change a man whose flaws drew her in like a moth towards an open flame.

“I hate it when you smoke,” her voice quivers. She feels small next to the well-built man beside her, but she doesn’t know whether or not she should continue to try to reason with a brick wall. “It’s bad for my lungs.”

The thing is, Lee Jihoon is a good listener. Probably trained by his sister after taking care of her by himself for so many years, his listening skills make up for his lack of good communication skills. And he snuffs his half-burned cigarette against the brick edge, tossing it to the floor of the roof and rendering it destroyed with the heel of his shoe.

When he wraps her in his arms as a way of saying Sorry, I was in the wrong, she notices how cold he must be feeling. His cold skin immediately burns hot the moment it comes into contact with hers.

“I’m sorry. Don’t cry.” His apology is muffled against her strands of hair. “I really do love you.”

“Do you think we’ll be fine?” She asks him. It’s more of a need for confirmation – the reason for confirmation is murky.

“I don’t know.” His heart feels like it’s beating harder than usual, and he’s pretty sure she can also feel it. “I’ll try.”

Jealousy is a vile disease that can overtake and completely alter a person. And she realizes that the man who usually instills jealousy in those around him is also capable of being infected.

eight - winter

Tonight’s drink of choice is his usual Manhattan poured into a whiskey glass and garnished with a fresh slice of lemon instead of his usual olive, cherry, or lemon peel twist. However, it sits untouched on a handmade coaster on the desk in its owner’s office while the owner is nowhere to be found. Condensation on the outside surface of the glass pools at the bottom of the circular glass, held together in a ring thanks to cohesion forces. The cubed block of ice that sat in the middle of the sink now floats to the top in a sort of watery layer just above the alcohol. Pitch-black is what describes the office – nobody would even know Lee Jihoon considered drinking alcohol tonight, let alone visited his office.

Joshua thinks his boss is probably in his office calculating the cost of each ounce of alcohol against the recipe for every drink, knowing how stingy he can be. He also notices the lack of a cheerful presence that makes his boss’s ears flush bright red. But he doesn’t say anything about it, after all, bartenders are always here for the gossip but never participate in spreading gossip.

Jihoon sits in the dark of his grocery store near the entrance where the porch light shines brightly through the glass windows. His shoulder blades, especially the upper area towards the middle of his neck and shoulders, are screaming in pain. And the empty crate he uses as a stool is anything but comfortable.

It’s not a particularly big grocery store. It’s more like a rectangular hole-in-the-wall about the size of the speakeasy's kitchen. There are open crates of neatly stacked fruits and vegetables in front of the counters for customers to choose themselves while all of the other goods are behind the counters. Where walls of groceries line the four walls and the walking space is only large enough to have five different customers comfortably shop at once, Jihoon feels that the tiny front for his speakeasy becomes his sort of personal sanctuary. His sister is barely at home now that she’s in the process of moving most of her stuff to Seokmin’s place, and the tiny changes he made around the house to accommodate his girlfriend remind him too much of her. His office is much too cold and stress-inducing to be in alone during Winter. And the speakeasy is noisy and rowdy where his presence only instills fear in others or causes him to be whisked away in some conversation he doesn’t want to take part in.

So sitting in the only place he can seem to find comfort may be the only way he can truly accept the fact that in the ninth month of getting to know the woman with the big dreams and fake pearls, she is slowly becoming a stranger to him as he is to her.

A single kiss, a peck on the cheek is what she would leave him with before parting every time he dropped her off at the backdoor of the matinee. Now she has a private chauffeur who picks her and her agent up to bring them to wherever her schedule needs her to appear. And it tore out a piece of his heart when she told him that it was for the best especially when she started developing a strong hatred towards speakeasies. In fact, most of their more recent fights were about his job and how she can’t be around people who are associated with something so illegal and vile.

For two people who spent the majority of the year together, each recent meeting feels like an awkward exchange between two people whose lives are moving ahead with barely any space for the other to exist. Where one is preparing for the end of her musical run and the new musical production she’s been cast in, the other one is busy switching seasonal grocery stock and preparing his speakeasy for a VIP. She’s been on more fake dates in a week with her co-star in an industry-fueled scheme to generate more revenue before the musical run ends than she has in a month with her real boyfriend. Even the thrill of sneaking around with each other seemed to have worn off.

One is a woman who came from nothing and now has everything she ever wanted and wants more. The other is a man who came from something and is content with what he has.

Perhaps the thing he most wants is to understand her just a little more. He doesn’t understand the new words and phrases she integrated into her daily jargon and wonders about what or how she thinks of him now that she is on the way to having everything she ever wanted. It’s not like he wants more, no. He’s truly content with what he has. But he can’t help but wonder if love is just the beautiful landscape she spends some time driving through on her road to the glitz and glamour of stardom. If he is simply a backdrop, then why did she even want to pursue him in the first place? Why did he allow himself to fall in love? Why was she so adamant about picking up all of her phony loose pearls when she doesn’t care about buying real ones anymore?

Jihoon knows that life is as fragile as the soft waxy pear he holds in his hand – how a fruit could be so delicate to the touch, but farmers still swatch on a layer of protective wax to keep it from getting bruised and dehydrated with hopes that the fruit would journey safely into somebody’s grocery bag. One single and firm squeeze of the fruit in his palm could turn it into mush and have the juice drip down his fist in globs. Driving a single stomp through the barrel of neatly stacked pears would not save them from becoming absolutely demolished. Protective wax does nothing. Trying to protect himself from getting hurt like that thin coat of fruit wax does absolutely nothing as long as he is in love. And love may just as well be something as fragile as life.

Hand reaching for nothing and hitting the inside of an empty crate, Jihoon quickly retracts his hand while feeling a bit embarrassed for not noticing that he’s done stocking the pears. Having nothing to do causes a wave of loneliness, no, nostalgia to wash over him like the moonlight over the tumbling ocean waves. The fact that she brings up the fact that he owns a speakeasy every time they argue is frequent enough that the thought always lingers at the back of his mind. He can’t comprehend how she somehow started hating speakeasies almost overnight and hates the fact that he is the owner of one. She tells him that it would be better if he left the speakeasy to Seungcheol to manage the grocery store full-time. Looking at everything around him from the walls of products to the shiny wooden floors to the long flowerbeds placed against the walls of windows, he doesn’t know if he could ever give up the speakeasy to work at a place he loves so dearly. Maybe one day in the future when the Prohibition gets lifted, he would turn the speakeasy into something else.

Right now, he is not willing to give up something that he loves. The Diamond Glass is his home, and his employees are his family members. Giving up something as precious as his speakeasy is not something that he would even consider putting on his bargaining table even if it means losing the love of his life. Unwillingness to give up on something he loves for someone whom he loves results in him thinking about the version of his love in the darkness of the grocery store. The version of her with the flimsy dress, the version of her as a fling, the version of her he was afraid to love, the version of her as his love, the version of her he is growing apart from – he thinks about them all. Imagining an alternate universe where she is as unchanging as he is, a version where they can wake up in bed together only to laze around till four in the afternoon – it might be a selfish concept, he thinks. Previously uninhabited space in his brain, now filled with her to the brim, he’s not strong enough for it to spill over until it empties.

A flood of light washes into the grocery store at an angle when the employee door behind the counter opens. Choi Seungcheol stands at its opening with an unsmiling look on his face. Jihoon looks back at the older man, pausing before he sighs and wipes his hands on his pants.

“They’re in your office,” Seungcheol tells his boss.

“Who the hell let them in here?” Jihoon sighs while standing up, stretching his back before heading towards where his employee stands. It doesn’t take many contexts to fully understand what Seungcheol meant when he used the pronoun. Even more so, Jihoon immediately deduced the topic of the incoming conversation and the approximate amount of time the less-than-amicable conversation would take.

“I dunno,” the older man shrugs. “It’s not like we can turn them away. We do need business with them.”

nine - winter

Bursting through the office door and swinging the door open with so much force that the door ricochets off the wooden doorstop and wobbles while being supported by its hinges, she stomps with a fury unmatched by no other. In her wake are a scorching fire and the apologetic part-time bouncer who tried his best to stop her without ever laying a hand on her.

“I-I’m sorry. I tried,” the bouncer with the circular glasses tries to explain himself to his boss. “I-I told her that today’s not a good day, and that you’re-”

“I’m going to make you develop a complex,” the boss seethes through his teeth without moving his mouth to attempt a straight and dignified-looking expression in her presence. Capping his solid gold Sheaffer pen from the old gift set, dropping the expensive item on his stack of papers, and leaning back in his office chair with an annoyed expression on his face is more than enough to send bouncer out the door, scrambling and slamming the door shut behind him.

Jihoon doesn’t respond to his girlfriend, though he makes sure to look at her, studying her smudged stage makeup and the new expensive decoration that hangs from her neck. Silence between the couple becomes a waiting game, a game that anticipates the drop of a guillotine strong enough to cut the tension developed. Pulling the lever, she slices through and continues the journey she embarked on since her last show.

“Lee Jihoon,” his name cracks like a lightning strike – powerful yet lonely – emitted from her atmosphere. “How could you?”

Outside the guarded office door, the VIP speakeasy crowd roars in laughter and cheers. Glasses clink and specially ordered wooden chairs scrape against the sticky floors while speakeasy singers entertain their audience for the night. If Lee Jihoon is the owner and boss of this establishment, then the middle-aged woman who sits at the circular mini table right in front of the stage is the king.

This middle-aged woman with a kind face whose deep smile lines appear when she smiles at others in her acknowledgment is the sole supplier of the Diamond Glass’s alcohol. One misstep, one thought of collusion against her, one simple miscalculation on proposals can erase the Diamond Glass from existence including its workers, leaving the local police with a cold case unsolved for years because they would have nothing, to begin with. Hoping to never upset the king before the Prohibition ends, Lee Jihoon will do anything to maintain his healthy and trustworthy relationship with her and her cohort.

Right now, with her in his office, there is so much more than just simply trying to be business partners with the speakeasy’s current private clients. Because of this, agitation is what makes his leg shake. Fear is what causes him to snap at his girlfriend. Ultimately, this sparks a negative chain reaction foreseeable by anybody since the beginning of Autumn.

Get out are the only two words he can manage to snap at her. His right pointer finger pointed at his office door and his right arm trembles in its extension. Himself, the man sitting in his office chair, feels nothing but anger and fear from seeing his girlfriend in a place in which she should not be seen – a place she upbraided and proclaimed to be untenable in its legality.

“How could you?” she asks again in an accusing tone, her hands forming into tight balls of fists so that her knuckles visibly pale. “You liar. You promised you would be there for my last show. Why weren’t you there? You have so many employees working for you, and you’re not even out there. You’re just sitting in your office doing something you can do another time. Everybody’s partners were there for them at the afterparty yet I rushed here.”

Jihoon sits up from his seat, folding his hands on his desk. He takes a good look at the musical actress in front of him – prim and proper looking, her hair styled in neat curls, and the elegant and flowy black Lanvin Robe de Style which he finds to indicate she took time to change out of her costume into something non-inconspicuous. Paris’s House of Creed’s Angélique Encens set to be released in the early 1930s floats around her like a thin veil of mist. The sensual powdery-floral cut by the salty ambergris beautifully blended with vanilla and tuberose was said to be a pre-release gift from the founder of the perfume house. He thinks about the time when she accidentally dropped the perfume bottle she bought back in ’17 on her wooden floors. She thought nothing of the accident – no indication of dejection while picking up the broken pieces of glass and causally mentioned the perfume incident in an interview. The next day, a fresh bottle and a bouquet of roses were gifted to her from the perfumery. He’s not sure if the new bottle ever made it out of her closet. He’s not the type to compare himself to others – no, his confidence and self-assurance are too high for that – but he can’t help but wonder whether or not he can say her name the way he used to.

When you love someone, a name isn’t formed from the mouth but from the heart. The image of her in his head, once formed and sculpted from his skinny love, still exists in his hippocampus. Happiness when he sees her, the rush of dopamine when he feels her fall asleep again him after a long day, never originated from the limbic cortex. Fully believing it, even now at this moment despite the circumstances, he believes it was passed to him by her. Where her name is formed from his heart, she is his entire heart. And it hurts him to even consider the fact that she he holds close to his heart may just as well walk away with a piece of him that would never be returned.

It is the last time he says her name from his heart. He tells her to leave, that it’s not safe. He doesn’t want his bodyguards to ever lay a hand on her. It’s for the best, he tells her. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. He’s afraid of the fact that literal gangsters in the building would scare her, and he’s not about to compromise her integrity. For her sake, he feels that keeping the fact to himself, letting her walk over him if she has to, may keep her safe.

“But there’s no tomorrow,” she almost wails, stomping her feet even. She’s frustrated that she had to attend the party celebrating the end of the season alone, frustrated over his stolid attitude over everything. She just wishes he could’ve been there with her experiencing one of the most important moments of her life.

Shooting out of his chair, sending it backward from the force with which he pulls himself up, he slams his hands on his desk. “Leave,” he yells at her.

“Choose,” she lays down her ultimatum for him. “Me or the speakeasy.”

“Diamond Glass,” he chooses without hesitation. Albeit, the expression he notices form on her face causes him to feel restive in his response. “Me or your fake boyfriend?”

“Fake boyfriend?” She feels her skin prick with coldness. “Do you have to bring him up every time we get into an argument?”

“What?” The tone of his voice is anything but amicable. “So you’re only here to argue with me for a little bit before you storm off to your little boy toy. What happened to compromise? What happened to me being the most important person in your life?”

“Compromise?” She seethes. “I literally told you that my new agent sprung it upon me when I met him.”

“The easiest phrase you can say as an actress is ‘no comment.’ Or are you so far up your ass and your glitz and glamour that all you can do is be hotsy-totsy with all the men around you? Do you even think about me? Or do I only appear in your mind when you need me?”

“So what about me living the life I always wanted? So what if I have to fake date rich men while keeping this persona they built for me? Men, any men, regular men, rich men, they can all get in and out of relationships and marriages whenever they please and they wouldn’t be shamed for it. They can marry whenever and whoever they please and not be looked down upon. This includes you, Jihoon,” her voice dips when she says his name. There is a crack in her voice that Jihoon absolutely hates hearing because it means anything but her happiness. “All they want women to do is marry and have kids. But I get to escape that expectation because of my job. The leading lady was fired because she auditioned for another job. So what if the world found out that the understudy had a boyfriend? I would be a joke. I would be forced out of the industry, blacklisted for not taking my job seriously.”

“Why do you care so much about what other people think?” He almost wants to shout at her, to hurl his chair against the wall. “Given my connections, you would never be forced out of the industry.”

“You don’t get it do you?” Her knees buckle. “I never wanted to rely on you.”

“Then what did you want me for?” He can’t contain himself anymore. He shouts at her in frustration. “A good fuck? A summer fling? Someone to fix because your life was so boring before me?”

“I just wanted you by my side,” she shouts back.

“And I was always by your side.” He’s so frustrated that tears well up in the inner corners of his eyes. “I was always by your side even when I wasn’t in love with you. I was by your side this whole time even if you never felt it. I was by your side even when I didn’t understand. When I didn’t understand why you loved me. When I didn’t understand the words that came out of your mouth. When I didn’t understand why you don’t even look at me the way you used to.”

“And what was the way I used to-” She cuts herself off, stopping so she can point her head to the ceiling so that he doesn’t have to look at her sob. “Fuck.” The realization slaps her in the face.

“Shit,” Jihoon has no choice but to cuss. His face stabs with pain, and his arms feel numb. But heaping globs of tears stream down his face, and he breaks down on his spot – choked sobs and trembling shoulders, unable to look her in the eye. He also realizes the same thing – she doesn’t love him anymore.

Lee Jihoon doesn’t remember how he ended up in the middle of the VIP party’s crowd, drunk off of giggle water. Tonight, he can’t even bring himself to flirt with the woman who he plants himself behind, bringing her ass to his dick while she grinds on him on the dance floor. Everything feels so foreign to him – letting go, straying from his usual Manhattan, people prying him off of someone new, crying, being single, sobbing, crashing on someone’s couch, blacking out. He doesn’t know who he is or where he is. The only thing he remembers is seeing a piece of his heart leave when she left him in his office and the realization that they are no more.

Not even a sense of familiarity can rush over his inebriated self when he feels a heavy blanket cover his shivering body. Seungcheol, no; his sister, no; Seokmin…the king? He can’t quite differentiate whose couch it is that he is laying on or who it is who is consoling him.

“We can never go back to who we were before love,” the unidentified voice reassures him. “After love, we are just as different. But it takes time to create a better us than who we were when we were in love. After all, time and feelings change. You have loved yourself before, Jihoon. And you will love yourself again.”

“Feel broken,” he manages to slur through his tears. He hasn’t stopped crying since being dragged out of the speakeasy “Gone.”

“But it doesn’t mean you can’t find yourself in the future.”

epilogue - spring '39

Lee Jihoon carries a toddler in his arm, someone whose eyes curl the same way he does when he smiles. He hands him an apple, a gorgeous waxy Red Delicious that is arguably too big for the toddler’s hands.

“Hold tight,” Jihoon tells the child. “Or it would fall and roll away. Then we can’t sell the apple.”

But the fruit immediately falls from the toddler’s hands, bouncing and rolling towards the other side of the newly renovated grocery store.

After all these years, the mom-and-pop grocery store manned by the Diamond Glass’s workers and families still stands proudly while facing the busy street before it. And the Diamond Glass, converted into a bar, has since made a name for itself after the Prohibition. The establishment with its criminal origins, instead of deterring people away, only attracts and appeals to the public.

The bell above the front door clanks when a new customer steps inside. And the quick burst of air caused by the act of opening the door drowns out what the new customer says to their driver.

In the meantime, Jihoon sighs and looks at the child in his arms – the kid whose lips quiver from making a mistake. He decides to let him go and squats to tell him that his mom would send him into exile if he ever made him cry. “Even worse,” he whispers to the child, “Seokmin would cry if he ever saw you cry. And you know how much your dad cries. But go get Uncle Seungcheol for me. We need more people in the front.”

A few minutes after the boss feels a gentle tap on his right shoulder. But he chooses to ignore them and instead calls for Seungcheol to help with the customer. He feels the tap again, this time with a little more pressure. So he turns his head from his stack of apples on the ground, looking up at the customer standing behind him.

She holds the dusty and bruised apple in her outstretched hand. And he notices the freshly coated swatch of lacquer that decorates her nails. His eyes trace up her gams to her tweed Chanel skirt and the matching blazer which sculpts her shoulders. In contrast to her expensive designer wear is the scuffed and faded pearl necklace which sits proudly around her neck – a contrasting centerpiece to her outfit. And he can tell that they’re fake, just like the ones that scattered and clacked against his once illegally sticky speakeasy floors.

Seungcheol’s head pops from the doorframe to the employee door behind the grocery store counter. “Who is it?” he asks his boss.

Jihoon looks at her in her eyes, the same pair of twinkling eyes he could never forget, and answers his question, “An old friend.”

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http-mianhae · 1 year

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AMORTENTIA ; joshua

view the whole series here!

DESCRIPTION ᝰ The first time they met was when she reached for a chocolate frog which he helped her reach and after that, they’ve been seeing each other everywhere. A story of how a Slytherin became undyingly soft for a Hufflepuff

WARNINGS ᝰ unrequited love, slytherin!reader x hufflepuff!joshua, one beat up scene, y/n is a sexual assault survivor!!!!, themes and trauma of sexual assault

PAIRING ᝰ hong joshua x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ᝰ 16.7k words

BEFORE YOU READ:

this ends in a cliffhanger but i'm unsure of what to do after it. so i wanted you guys to decide whether you want me to make a part 2 immediately or just continue the series and upload jun's part next.

the poll will be at the end of the story and i'll pin it to my page too! i'll tag you in 24 hrs and tell you guys what i'll do.

anyways, enjoy!!!

A Quaffle passed your sight as you cascaded from the great height. Home is when you’re meters off the ground, ass on a broomstick and pride worn with the Slytherin Quidditch uniform.

Eric and Sunwoo were hot by your side, but their skill couldn’t compare with yours. You sent Sunwoo a minute smile at the furrow of his eyebrows, all his concentration on the Quaffle. Even the goggles he wore didn’t protect the falter as he caught your gaze, wondering why you were smiling at him despite your cold shoulder most of the time.

Only it couldn’t be helped when you saw the underclassmen trying hard, pride pleasing you that he was working hard to beat you.

You sighed, turning back around and speeding on your broom. Hands steady and easily finding the Quaffle again, Eric’s hands nearly at it. It was moments before he would meet with utter distress as you swept through the air. A whistle let you know it was game over.

“Aw, man!” Eric yelled grumpily.

You let the Quaffle drop from your fingertips, not bothering to watch it touch the ground. Yuna, one of your managers, had quite the liking for wanting to catch the falling balls. You glide to the ground without another look, the others in your team following suit. You kicked your legs off your broom, the stick tumbling to the ground.

“That was one-hundred-fifty to eighty, I believe.” your main manager, Lia announced, her hands with a clipboard and a pencil, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Disappointment aroused the younger members of the team.

“It’s not fair, you guys always win!” Sunwoo argued.

You looked at him, his face contorted into a pout and a glare.

He really wanted to win...you liked that competitiveness. Then only, in a real game, he would play his best. He was a Chaser after all.

“Hey, we gave you guys Ryujin this time.” Jun, the vice-captain of the team, answered.

“Yeah. We gave you a chance to find the Snitch but you guys didn’t. Who’s problem is that?” you asked them. The younger members couldn’t say anything.

“You can’t deny. Jun and Y/N alone are a powerful duo for this team. If you guys lose either of them, it would be the end for the team.” Yuna bantered, holding out the crate of water bottles. Hands attacked it mercilessly, everyone going for their individual water bottle.

You didn’t say anything about what she just said, but you did accept it silently. Jun was an excellent Beater and you were Chaser, Captain and realistically, the ace of the team. Without one of you, the team would be at stake.

“You hear that, Y/N?” Jun nudged you playfully by the elbow. He loved hearing those types of compliments reeling from others’ mouths. Almost as much as compliments honouring your looks and honestly, you didn’t know what to say to that. It was like you grew up enduring his over-confidence. Though, if you weren’t the leader of this team, you couldn’t even begin to see in your head how the team would’ve turned out. They all would’ve been little servants of Junhui, the Beast Beater.

“Guys, guys!” You all turned your heads to see Wonyoung sprinting down, her hand high in the air. How she looked that beautiful while running, the secret remained with her genes but it would be a lie to state that everyone didn’t stop for a second to cherish in the angel’s running. Wonyoung, the currently benched first-year Beater, stopped at last in front of you all, looking like she was going to spur her words out but couldn’t because of how much she was running.

“Where did you run from?” the Keeper, Kevin, as if it was any much of a good time, asked.

“F-From the back of the—does it even matter?” the tall girl questioned, her eyes squinted as she gave Kevin a querying look. He had the energy for asking questions that surely didn’t matter. Sweat glistened her forehead under the light atmosphere. “They’re gathering to leave to Hogsmeade in ten minutes. If you want to pack up and leave, let’s go!”

The idea of going to Hogsmeade at a time like this sounded surpassing. You had quite some stuff to do before even thinking of doing so. You looked over at Jun for ideas but the third-year Vice-Captain seemed pretty chill about it.

“I say, we go. How about you, Y/N?”

You looked to your team where pleading eyes abode to convince you. For starters, you weren’t a very lenient person to please nor convince so this was the most they were doing without getting on your nerves. You gazed through each individual staring back at you with cutesy eyes and a sweaty face, belatedly feeling the tiniest bad that your efforts as Quidditch Captain were going to dissipate if you weren’t fit to treat your team at least humanly.

So you gave a little smile. “Fine, but here’s the plan...Lia, Yuna, Wonyoung, Kevin and Eric start packing up the stuff. The rest of us will get changed and then we swap in five minutes, so that Wonyoung, Kevin and Eric can go get changed. Then, we run. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

And just like that, you and your group of green dispersed in the foggy fields getting to your designated locations to do your things.

After packing up the equipment and changing, you were running towards the back of the school in a hurry to find yourself in McGonagall’s annoying nearness within no time, or more like, near late time. Fortunately enough, McGonagall was the type to not see differences in houses even if she took the Gryffindor’s pride to her heart. Unlike Snape who was always on your side no matter what. But if she saw you even a second late, you wouldn’t be excused and she would always wave you with: “Should’ve been here five seconds earlier.”

Had she been a dark witch, you would’ve told your auror parents to get rid of the woman.

Though, luckily enough, you were able to get there quick enough to find her just taking out her clipboard. She gave you and your Quidditch team a stern look in between.

“May I suggest that you make sure that your extra-curricular don’t clash with the times we’re not at school because it would be unfortunate for you to miss out on this. It’s a good way to relax for you students,” she said. And the group of students gathered around her agreed simultaneously.

You didn’t understand if it was a tactic to hinder your team from training more or actual advice, but you willingly wanted to listen to that piece of advice anyways. Maybe you should push Quidditch a few hours earlier on Saturdays so that you can go to Hogsmeade.

“We will be leaving now and no being bad, especially you, Weasley twins!” The woman turned around with a chuckle from Fred and George Weasley, walking down the icy path. Your team took in the snow environment as you cascaded down the group of students to bake in each other’s proximity and relish in your time together.

If you were being true to yourself and for once, not relentless nor greedy, you and your team had a stabler connection with each other than the school's other teams. Which not only made you feel superior but gratified. Because the team you had strived strong together and even the managers and the benched member felt like family, you were simply reliant on each other to the point that you were more than friends. You were all like family.

You could see it in the way you didn’t mind that Tzuyu would link her arm around yours or that Ryujin was hitting Kevin for twerking in the middle of the street and the how you all laughed in harmony together while another man stares. To which, Junhui replied: “Whatchu looking at?”

When the other person floundered away, supposedly an average citizen of Hogsmeade village, another laughter rocked through the members of the Slytherin Quidditch Team. You hit Junhui as he barked with laughter.

“You’re so rude, oh my God!”

Junhui yelling at the old man obtained you to apprehend that you were messing around so much that you didn’t come to the realisation that you were already treading into the village Hogsmeade. It seemed that the younger members were already finding themselves looking around, wowing at the Christmas decorations amidst the village. It shocked you too that they were already getting ready this time in November. However, you were amazed at certain decorations that were better than others. People didn’t fool about Christmas at Hogsmeade. Preferably no one jokes about Christmas in Hogwarts too. It was pretty huge over there as well.

From the delicious banquet to the present-opening morning in which you trade and replenish the air with gratitude.

“Please, please, please, can we go into Honeydukes?!” Lia asked, coming to your free side and taking over your arm.

She pleaded with her eyes. You remembered it like it was just yesterday—how she used to be so scared applying for her position as manager and here she was, for once, acting like you weren’t a ticking time bomb close to exploding. You allowed her to link her arm in, thinking about the thought of Honeydukes. It felt nice to be in the lead sometimes.

“Sure, why not? Where else would we go anyways?” you asked, leading the two girls in the direction of the infamous candy shop. The boys, Tzuyu, Ryujin and Wonyoung were just behind.

It was going to be bustling with students in the miniature candy store. You were precise in your estimate as you entered the store. It was mobbed with Hogwarts students, sprinting around the cramped scope to bestow to their friends what tricks their candies can do and it was no astonishment. Every Hogsmeade visit, the students would infiltrate Honeydukes as it was where the primary consumption of serotonin was—candy.

If you wanted to pay Honeydukes a visit, you had to get there early. That’s what you discovered over the years.

You managed to shake loose Tzuyu and Lia, forming your way within the crowd on your own exploit of confectionery.

It was surprising someone so cold-hearted would intrigue themselves in something as lovely as the taste of sweets. This could be said again at the end of the story, but this tale will point through a wondrous roller coaster of emotions comparable to tasting Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans in the sense that it would end with relief that the candy was over.

Subsequent to the wandering around the shop, you found yourself in front of your favourite chocolate. A small smile found its way to your lips. You’ve always liked this type of chocolate. Its gold-flared wrappings to the elegantly ripped taste of cocoa brought you to heaven and back for two Galleons and a Sickle.

The chocolate made you wriggle in serotonin, made you feel as if you were bouncing in the clouds of heaven.

It had been a while since you had it too so you had to get it.

Just as you were about to bandage your fingers around the golden wrapping of the box, another hand reached through and got it. It appeared to be the last chocolate box stacked on the shelf too, so a broad disturbance sank your heart like quicksand that someone else also had a desire to get the final box of your favourite chocolate.

You whipped your head around, meeting a face that felt familiar. Kind eyes faced you. You backed away from the box but the boy stretched it out towards you.

“You can have it,” he told you.

“No,” You looked away, not aspiring to look at him for too long. You noticed the colour of the robes straightaway.

Yellow stained your sight, disgusting you because you never experienced talking to a Hufflepuff face on. It was always through someone. This was the first time in all your years in Hogwarts a Hufflepuff has actually approached you and that alone said a lot about the type of person you were.

“Have it,” you told the boy. He must’ve been in the same grade as you because he looked more mature than most of the students in the shop.

“I insist. I didn’t really want it anyway, I was just taking it because you were—“

You squinted your eyes, wondering if you were certainly hearing stupidity or it was just you. Suddenly, a hand made contact with you. Whipping your head to the right, you made out the face of your best friend.

“What’s going on here?”

“I was just leaving.” A small smile covered his lips. The obscure Hufflepuff pushed the box into your hands and swung around, shouting out to what resembled to be his friends and followed to merge with his group. You looked at him.

You were staring so hard at the back of his head you didn’t realise that Junhui was blabbering about something—probably nonsense again. You weren’t sure.

“Hey, Jun,” you said, interrupting whatever he was talking about. “Who was that kid?”

“Pfft,” he replied, widening his eyes and getting saliva all over your face.

“Yah, Junhui!” You wiped your face desperately, not noticing the stares you were suddenly getting. The saliva luckily rid your face as you were alarmed to be scarred by his spit forever. Only one of the many perks of being Jun’s best friend, you accepted it as a rare privilege, in fact. You loved being spat in the face—sarcasm involved. “Why would you do that?”

He laughed, slapping your arm. “My bad.”

“Get to the topic.” you glared, delivering a glance at the Hufflepuff. “Who is he?”

“You don’t know him?”

“No, I don’t. Why would I ask that then?”

“Oh my God, Y/N.” Jun fake-sighed. “You don’t pay attention, geez. He’s Joshua Hong, does that ring a bell?”

And it felt like a thousand bricks crashed your head. You remembered who it was. The familiar kind eyes came into view again as you marked the prior vision of him accepting a badge fixed on his chest fled into your mind. You recollected that night as the same night when you got your Prefect badge. He got his Prefect badge and Head Boy badge.

Not only that, he was in your dull History of Magic class and Potions.

Now it made sense that he was giving you the chocolate box.

It was not only because he was a Hufflepuff but additionally for the reason that he was a Prefect and Head Boy, he had to keep his kind status up since he was liable for his entire house.

“So he just gave you that?” Jun asked, eyes wide when you told him what happened.

“Yeah, he did. Weird.”

“Yeah, but no. He’s known for doing that around the school. Maybe you should keep your eyes out in case he does anything else…remotely kind…exclusively to you?” Jun suggested. You didn't discern the tease in his voice.

You exhaled and then linked your arm around him even though the touch of another male's skin made you remotely disgusted. It was just too exhausting to think about. You rather go about your day without having unnecessary things in your head.

“Y-You’re holding me.”

“Right I am, Junhui. Let’s go pay for this.” You waved around the box of chocolates, putting an end to the conversation prior to him questioning anything else.

Junhui didn’t question anything else, knowing this was one of the times his best-est friend was actually revealing skinship. Instead, he walked you towards the counter, passing by Joshua’s group of friends. Your eyes managed to wander into the group unwillingly, filled with students from other houses with the exclusion of green robes.

To find that he was already looking at you.

Was there a possibility that he did something to the chocolate—

No, he doesn’t seem the type.

He smiled.

I’ll never know.

You glared his way and rotated your head back, presenting a grin to the sweet old woman who worked at Honeydukes Sweet Shop, ready to buy your candy.

“Don’t forget, you owe us butterbeer, Captain~” Eric sang into your ear.

―

The dead have too much to say.

That’s what you concluded by the next History of Magic class. Because the teacher you had was an annoyance to the society of wizards and witches. Like, go rest or something? You rather catch Peeves the Poltergeist around the school than deal with Professor Binn’s shenanigans.

You flipped through the pages of your workbook, not really focusing on the class. No one was, no one ever did. In fact, every one of his classes you had attended made you want to drop your head to the table and sleep. Junhui not being in the class made it more vexatious as there was no one else to talk to. The other Slytherins already had friends and were sitting with them, talking and having a good time, leaving you singly at the back of the classroom.

You searched around the classroom, seeing if there was anything interesting to even lay your eyes on. Nothing.

It was peculiar how Binns’ classroom was set up, it was different to a standard Hogwarts classroom. It was one of those classrooms that had rows and rows in an ascending manner in the shape of a semi-circle, so it was easy to fool around and not have the ghost catch you when you were off task.

As you were busy scanning around the classroom, your sight landed perfectly on something you hoped you never saw again.

Alas, there it was. The same kind eyes you were trying to avoid since the commencement of the class.

How Joshua Hong had been looking at you, you didn’t know but what you did know was that you didn’t like it one bit.

You looked back at the teacher, aspiring to find more enthusiasm in the lesson than the Hufflepuff but it was painful as the teacher tended to slur his words into a hybrid of saliva. And then you were inquisitive about Joshua again so in a matter of seconds, you were glancing across the classroom to see if his eyes were still on you.

They weren’t—they were back on the teacher, thank God. A breath of relief slipped through your lips, only to be caught by you again. Suddenly, he looked at you. Your stomach drove itself in nervously, determining the situation awkward because you were never the type to be accused of making friends with Hufflepuffs. Nowhere near that behaviour.

You didn’t have time to shift your eyes too because he caught you into a smile.

It annoyed you—his face, the way his eyes would crinkle when he smiled at you. He appeared so punchable with that smile like he had some authority over you that you were hesitant of. That was the last thing you would let a Hufflepuff have of you, it'd be like someone striping your dignity off of you.

And because of that, it made you smile back, sarcastically.

“So, when did the witch trials happen, L/N?” Your smile was revoked. You whipped your head around so fast as did everyone to look at you to answer the question. Binns was looking at you with the same straight face.

Since you were just so out of focus, the first thing that slipped out of your mouth was a: “Your mum.”

Ugh, Jun! You need to stop saying that around me.

Your face heated up. You felt yourself drown in your own misery almost instantly that you looked down at your textbook for some sort of virtuous support. Inanimate objects don’t give that, do they?

It was worse in a second. Because before you knew it, inhumane wails sought the class. You’ve never heard such blues leave a human before and it concluded that it wasn’t a human. You felt your disgrace pass more profound with the race of your heart as you looked at Professor Binns.

“M-My mother died in a terrible Muggle accident! How could you bring that up, L/N? I am so offended!” This was the first time that you were seeing Binns so expressive but that was not the point―at all. You had a problem that you did not want to be dealing with.

Someone save me. Anyone, anyone.

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see any of your peers looking back at you with humour lit in their eyes. Not only did you make yourself a fool to your classmates but no one was stopping the crying ghost either. It was an eventful day and it was only your third period. You felt your breath clog up in your chest and it was held there for several seconds until the bell rang.

A soundly sigh escaped you as you practically rushed to pack up before anyone in the class could move an inch. “Apologies, Professor Binns. Didn’t know your mother died. I hope she, um, rests in peace or whatever.”

Binns was in another round of tears at the completion of your apology and you were hurrying out of the class, acting as if you didn’t hear his crying. The last thing you wanted to do was comfort a teacher. Your reputation was far more influential than a dead man.

So as you cleared your books off of your desk, you mourned in the fact that the Binns’ situation may have scuffed your standing a bit. You were speeding off to your next class not stopping by any familiar faces that would only give you a run for their money—tease you, your roommates would relentlessly taunt you for the fool you made out of yourself.

You ran out of the classroom, practically wanting to fly.

“Y/N!”

You turned back around, realising that you left the sweet Wonyoung behind at the entrance of your classroom. She seemed to be waiting for you.

“Hey.” you greeted your benched Beater.

She grabbed your shoulders authoritatively, pushing you away from your classroom door where you were in the way of others coming out from the History of Magic class you wished to have forgotten. It was typical for the towering Wonyoung to do so, her generosity was regarded as the taste of honey.

“You seem a little feverish,” she said as she furrowed her eyebrows worriedly. Once again, worrying over her dear Captain that benched her for all she was worth.

“I’m fine. What is it? You should be going to your next class.” you told her dismissively.

“Ah, it’s nothing much but Jun told me to tell you that he wasn’t in class because he skipped.”

You nodded, knowing that was the case anyways. “Okay, get to class now.”

You sauntered down the hallway, requiring to go to the dungeons for your Potions class. Wonyoung tailed on casually, her face peeking between your shoulder. There was a suggestive consideration coming from the girl as you walked down the employed halls. As a Prefect, it was an anchored duty for you to be punctual. You couldn't be messing around here with your underclassmen.

“Did anyone tell you how beautiful you look lately?”

The compliment didn’t even slit through the outer part of your softness (was there even any?). But you knew exactly what her intention was. You glanced at your underclassmen, furrowing your eyebrows, though not showing much agitation at the same time.

“Is this your way of running from the benches?” you asked blankly.

The beauty jutted out her bottom lip at you, her eyes becoming more doe than they seemed to be a few seconds ago. She was good at using her charms.

“Please.”

“Sorry, Wonyoung. I would love to have you not be benched but we already have two remarkably strong Beaters. I know it’s hard on you...” you told her in an attempt to comfort someone. You didn’t do this often, she should appreciate it as much as she could.

“You have no idea.” the girl replied and the once sugarcoated words were drawing out with grief you’ve never seen from her. She was the happiest on the team, the hype woman for everyone and you seeing her this vulnerable had to mean that the girl was fading in her sweet ways, one by one, slowly.

“If it helps, I used to be benched too.”

Wonyoung’s eyes widened. You smiled softly at her.

“Seriously? I don’t believe it.”

You looked away from her intriguingly sparkling eyes. It was a big insecurity of yours and as much as some members of the team knew about the past preceding their arrival of the team, you would never speak on it, requiring the situation to stay succumbed in the happenings for your individual mental health.

“Ah, long story. But the captain was bad, Jun and I made a plan and overthrew him. He was a perverted little shi —“

Before your words could come out themselves, something hard bumped into your back. You jumped, turning around to see what it was.

For once, you were so within talking to another human being that wasn’t Junhui that you didn’t know the crash would make you cross. You were trying to talk to your underclassmen heart-to-heart, who would be so ignorant to destroy that dainty time?

Joshua Hong would.

You glared at the boy as he picked up some books that got knocked down.

Fury rested inside you, finding yourself try to maintain stability for the sake of comprehending his excuse. The last time you checked he was assaying to make eyes with you in the class not even ten minutes ago and now this? You were so close to just grabbing him by the throat and shaking him until his head popped off and wheel down the hallway.

“So sorry, Y/N! I wasn’t watching where I was going and I—“

“Save it.” you seethed.

Joshua stared at you, unbelieving of your response, as if. He better start believing it because you weren’t falling for his nice guy scheme. Whatever this was, you wanted it to stop. You didn’t like it.

Just looking at the way a few strands of black scattered across his forehead, messily and his stupid, sorry eyes made you annoyed.

You couldn’t stand him.

Grasping Wonyoung’s wrist, you tugged her towards you. “Let’s go, Wonyoung.”

—

Were you hard on Joshua? In your fine opinion, absolutely not. The guy had it coming for him, why would he even try his chances with you? Nevertheless, like every human, there was this slight conscious asking you if what you did was moral? As in, what if it really was an accident? Your attitude or personality couldn’t fall for such idiocy. Which was why you let the Joshua situation slip between your finger like quicksilver and by the next morning, it was like he didn’t even exist.

You did your usual morning routine from showering and putting on your school robes, answering questions from younger dormmates and breaking up fights, as a Prefect should. You weren’t one to mess with when coming to fights and the students who encountered you felt the same.

You left for The Great Hall beforehand, without Junhui as you didn’t have the same first period together. Times when the two of you weren’t in the same class, Junhui would lay back with other friends and you would too but no one was going to the dining hall as early as you, so you were all along among your travel to The Great Hall.

It wasn’t until you entered The Great Hall, the early morning chirping dwelled inside your eardrums, awakening you. You walked down the pinched gap between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin table after recognising a group of familiar girls near the front of the table to sit with. Students here and there avoided the contact with your shoulder, giving you free way nonchalantly as you walked, so you weren't paying attention to your surrounding as much as you should have been.

And then, it all happened so quick.

CLINK!

A little pot, it must’ve been the size of your palm, spilled gravy all over your uniform. Your eyes widened, the light brown colour denting the white and green on you.

In brief, you couldn’t differentiate the fine line between time actually stopping or if everyone was just scared for your reaction.

You slowly looked up, your mouth agape with offense. You found big round eyes looking back at you, widened like you. Like they made the biggest mistake ever. You examined the face, finding familiarity from the glasses to the neat Ravenclaw uniform. Sixth year, Xu Minghao, Prefect and an absolute genius one. You’ve heard about his marvellous expertise in academic work, yet didn’t care for who he was until now.

Your face churned, small chatter picking up slowly around you.

"Oh no, is she going to curb stomp him?"

"Poor Xu Minghao. I pity him."

"Rest in peace, Haohao."

Even the teachers paused to watch. You heard an: “Oh!” from McGonagall who was making her way towards you. She was far away though.

If you grabbed your wand now and hexed this Xu MInghao who was looking at you blankly, your rage would compensate. Your hand made its way to your pocket and—

Someone grabbed you from behind and when you looked back, your anger only furthered at the face of Joshua.

“Hong, get off me right now. I might punch the both of you in your manhoods.” you threatened lowly but grateful to the quietness in the hall, it seemed that the Gryffindor table could hear it from all across the room but not the teachers.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to when you have all that trickling down you.” he began.

You wanted to lean back and punch his face.

“Go, Joshua!” you heard a Lee Seokmin say from a distance, the insolent Gryffindor who you had once collided into after practice and being pestered by your teammates. He got one hell of a lecture from you, you weren’t sure why he was talking like he had it easy from you.

But you weren’t able to even get your word in about this mistreatment because before you knew it, you were being dragged out, out of your own will. A spell? You didn’t know, neither could you meet the eyes of McGonagall anymore because she was lashed into a conversation with Dumbledore. And this was the accurate cause why you shunned all the teachers in this school except Snape and sometimes, Hagrid.

Joshua was in lead, your body somehow hexed and following. All that flooded your mind was how wrong this was. Because it looked like you were the one that was following him despite the desperate looks from your body to him.

“Let me go and you’ll have less of a problem.” you seethed dangerously between your teeth.

Joshua smiled back at you as the two of you exited the dining hall like it was nothing. “You need help.”

Did he not get it? You didn’t want his stupid help, neither did you want to see his stupid face. “Hong, I will scream.”

“And I’ve already hexed you so I don’t see your point of trying.”

This was trivial. Joshua was acting like a whole different person. A badger once dripping with honey in his words and actions was now the one to drag you up the stairs without a question from everyone else. You were barraged with the sheer lack of care the people had around you. Did no one dare blink into the troubled face of yours and thought of helping you? That seems not to be the case.

When Joshua was pushing through the students (nicely) with his Head Boy privilege, you could tell where you were going. The one place where you had more advantage than most of your dorm—the Prefect bathroom. You saw students around you sneaking glances as Joshua entered the Prefect bathroom and you entering after him, sadly, with no choice.

Now they wanted to stare. Oh, did the anger in you wanted to burn the whole school down.

“What the hell was that about?!” you roared when the door slammed shut behind you. Your limbs felt free, you could only assume that he took the hex off. And it was later confirmed when you saw his wand clutched in his grip.

Joshua’s eyes finally widened and you could see the fear slip into them. You weren’t falling for it. “I really wasn’t expecting you to know who I was.”

“Oh, of course, I didn’t know who you were until Mr Gentleman here decided to give me a run of his money. Last time I checked, Hufflepuffs stayed in their place.”

Joshua was quiet.

He didn’t say anything, his eyes reached the floor before a smirk sculpted his lips. Your mouth was agape at the audacity. Not once had you encountered such a Hufflepuff.

“I keep warning you—I won’t hesitate.” Your fingers found your wand tucked in your skirt, the slippery consistency of gravy between your fingers. And the vividly distressing memory of being humiliated was back.

“Okay, Y/N. Gravy is spilling between your legs, you look like a mess, and I’m the one who currently has the Slytherin girls’ spare uniform...you make the decision.”

You had been far too patient. Balling your fist, you did not hesitate in having a good run-up and punching him right in the stomach.

“You set this up! I’m seriously gonna—“

“No, wait, listen—“

“Why should I listen to a pervert who is obviously trying to bargain me into taking my clothes off in front of him after getting someone to spill gravy all over me. Do you think a Hufflepuff could ever get in with a Slytherin? And me, out of all people?” you spat, furrowing your eyebrows in disgrace.

You punched him.

Joshua clutched his abdomen, doubling over from the pain. You could feel the throb roam aimlessly within your knuckles as you retrieved it. You tilted your head sharply so the crack from the root of your neck would resonate in the bathroom. It was a known fact between the Prefects that the bathroom had a reverberation throughout.

“Stop, okay? I’m sorry. Mingyu helped me set this up. He thought if I was more upfront with my feelings, it would help me land you.” he told you, eyes sincerely drawing into yours

You seized him by the collar and pulled him inevitably closer. And with that move, it felt like Joshua’s whole body stopped working. But he let his words flow warmly.

“Land me? What do you mean by land me?”

“I have a crush on you and Mingyu planned this whole thing where I would take you out of the cafeteria and help you out and he gave me this huge script thing and I-I believed him instead of—“ His eyes could only accept fear into it.

“You expect me to believe this bullshit?” you questioned him, feeling mocked he would mess you with something like that. How low.

“Yes? Why would I lie about this? And to you? You will never find me doing that.” he challenged

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to say I like you a lot and this whole thing was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have pulled moves on you because it was wrong to you and set a bad example for my underclassmen. I’m sorry for getting in your way.”

Joshua saying he liked you had no effect on you. In fact, you were fairly ashamed. How could he take a careless word from an underclassman when he had girls upon him constantly? He should’ve known what to do. Your clutch loosened on the boy, letting him from your fury grasp.

“You should be. I don’t want this crush nonsense anymore. Stay out of my way, if you know what’s good for you..” you threatened him.

Joshua couldn’t even look at you. He must’ve known from the way you were no one to be fooled with. After all, you were known for your malicious words and merciless tendencies. For him to even attempt was an exceptionally brave and stupid thing to do. You wished he never tried, you would’ve been less stressed about your day.

“Understandable…the uniform is in the third bath cubicle, have a good day.”

He doesn’t blink into your face as he left, leaving you in the Prefect bathroom alone. You let out a loud sigh, feeling the inside of you collapse from the stress. He was just hitting on you and it failed horribly. You shook your head, unleashing the tight furrow on your eyebrows. The longer you thought about it, the longer it would have an unneeded effect on you.

Right, you were merciless and angry but you had a rationale conscious. You sighed and decided to go into the third cubicle, where a huge bath was already bubbling, surprising you. You figured it must’ve been Joshua’s doing.

This is the bare minimum.

You squatted right at the edge of the concrete where the sumptuously built bathtub was and dipped the edge of your fingertips of the water. It was warm. How?

Undressing, you wondered how the boy managed to keep the bath still warm. You had to have been in the Great Hall for a good five minutes and to get to the Prefect bathroom was almost ten minutes. Dipping yourself into the bath, the water welcomed you cordially. The foam covered your nudity from above and there was no doubt in your mind that Joshua must’ve got someone to do this minutes before you hypothetically entered—the only explanation that could be offered. If there was a spell, he would’ve had to go back into the third cubicle and take the hex off.

So that meant that he went super far into planning this.

He’s genuinely interested in me…

Who cares?

A booming “woooo~” scared the living daylights out of you. Your thighs clenched tightly as you backed to your dirty robes where your wand remained in case of danger.

It was nothing to be afraid of though.

Moaning Mrytle came from under, her body loose next to you so suddenly your body paralyzed for a whole second.

“Bathing so late in the morning, are we? Classes start soon.” Her eyes lowered a little. You pushed the soapy foam closer to you despite her seeing you from under anyways. There was something about Mrytle perving on you from above that made you generally awkward. She never hid her lustful tendencies as a spirit.

“If it wasn’t for an idiot, I wouldn’t be here, would I, Mrytle?”

“Badger boy~! Oh, he’s so incredibly handsome! Ah! I don’t understand why you wouldn’t fall in love with such a heartthrob.” she said, pouting at you. She perched her face on her hand, sighing heavily. “If I was still alive and in this generation of students, I would’ve had a huge crush on him or his incredibly handsome friend.”

Something little quipped in your heart at her words. You let the sound of the Moaning Mrytle's legs kicking her legs under the water sit a little. Gears were working in your head, finding a solution to that feeling. Why were you feeling that? It was like you could coincide with what she was saying.

But finding Joshua conventionally attractive didn’t mean you liked him like that, in fact, it was the opposite. But Mrytle must’ve known what was going on, at least more than you did. You might as well dig for more information.

“Mrytle, did he come in here earlier?”

She smiled. “Whyyyy~?! Do you have a crush on him?!”

You were afraid that the question was going to come up, but you defended yourself nicely.

“Well, it must be every girl’s inquisition if a boy has a crush on her. You would know that Mrytle, you’re such a gem!” Being nice was definitely not your forte, but you had to try to get the truth out.

But she smiled, taking it which made it all worth it. “Oh, stop it!…well, he did bring that incredibly handsome Hufflepuff Prefect in here and they were discussing something about you. I heard that older boy say that he was in love with you and it hurts liking you. They were talking about something about you but I wasn’t paying much attention. The other one’s face was such a distraction, honestly!”

No one has talked about you that way. You felt empty.

Your thoughts were getting nowhere. All you could describe was shock at the situation that was ducked. Never once in your life have you heard about another person talking about being hurt while liking you.

Your heart felt as if it was weakening, but you retained quickly, remembering that he brought you into this current situation with his stupid action plan, thinking it would make you weaker. And that instantly made you fed up. The aggression wasn't as strong anymore and you wanted for it to be badly.

He couldn't just do that and expect to win you over, that was beside the point.

He was messing with you.

Joshua Hong was trying to distract you.

—

The moon had always captured your eyes. It was like the big glowing circle would enlarge whenever someone fed it attention and admiration, becoming more beautiful. You couldn’t help it, indicting it on the divine sight the library had of it. Nonetheless, you couldn't let go of a certain topic knacking you on the back of the head—a bigger inquisition than the merit the moon offered.

"Do you think what Moaning Mrytle said was true?" It was a day following the event at The Great Hall.

Your best friend slid to your side. He grabbed a pebble on the windowsill and flung it back, letting go at the fit angle. The rock wheeled through the gaps of the circular window frame and into the atmosphere for a stable second, awarding unneeded silence to answer your question. Both of you paid attention to the rock's adventure until it decided to stop midair and drop down at an increasingly fearful speed.

Junhui let out a sigh and then turned around to you, leaning his figure against the window frame.

"I mean, I don’t know. It seems like anyone would be dedicated if they were planning to embarrass themselves in front of their crush. I wonder if Mingyu bribed him.” he stated.

You could hardly see it. Even on the court, Mingyu was too much of a good sportsman. It was beyond his abilities.

“I doubt it..." You leaned against the window frame like your best friend, giggling a little."Funny how I know nothing about him and he’s confessing.”

“Okay, but what do we do now that everyone thinks he brought you into the Prefects bathroom to screw?” he asked you. It was a question he ached to ask for so long, you could see it since this morning in which he gave you the most bewildered face when he learned that the rumours were totally muddled up. Students must've thought otherwise when they saw you and Joshua on the way up to the bathroom.

“I don’t really care what they think. I just hope he doesn’t come to mess around with my breakfast times again.” you shrugged, a small smile on your face at the recollection of humiliation on Joshua's face. You felt embarrassed for him, you couldn't begin to imagine how he was feeling.

"Oh if I was him, I would be scared to death.”

"As he should be...should we go back? I wanna sleep so bad," you suggested.

Jun pressed his lips tightly together and nodded, agreeing with you. "Me too and we have practice tomorrow too."

"That we do."

You collectively exited the library, not forgetting to wave Madam Pince a 'good night'. Jun and you made your way down the many stairs from the library, engaging in a humorous conversation, distant from the drama in your life that had been missing for a while. It didn't seem like it but Junhui was a big gossiper. You would hear everything from him before it would come from anyone and it was because of how he was always able to be at the scene of the crime. All the time.

Of course, except yesterday when Joshua was dragging you out of the Great Hall.

You felt a little uneasy on the ground floor, knowing that the two of you had to go past the Hufflepuff dormitory on the way to the dungeons. It was a pain honestly and it showed that the event affected you more than it should've.

"Not you thinking about him already."

"Boy, shut up," you told him as you took the lead into the hallway, guiding towards the dormitory to show that you weren't anywhere near thinking about Joshua.

It hadn't even been ten steps.

Your breath hobbled in your throat as you came to an instant stop. Jun knocked into your shoulder from behind.

“No, Momo. You’ve had too much to drink. Go inside, I’m gonna go get something from the kitchen and I—“

"NoOoO, I wanna see her now. She’s all I think about Joshua, she’s all I—“

Joshua was holding up a girl, trying to get her to stand upright on the wall and from the looks of it, it was something scandalous. Her eyes were dull, somewhat trying to find their way into slumber. She was drunk. Drunk as hell.

His back was facing you so there was no way he would see you. How would you slip by without him noticing? What if he sees you? Questions waved in your mind, all of 'the avoidance'. Whatever it was, you didn't want to be dealing with anything involving Joshua.

"Oi, Hufflepuff. What happened?" Jun asked loudly, leaving you flabbergasted.

What is he doing?!

Joshua turned around, hands busy holding the girl's shoulders. He looked back at Jun and his eyes widened a little. It was moments before his view fleeted to you. You wanted to scream with frustration. Your best friend—

You were betrayed.

He didn't look at you for long, his glance gliding towards an allegedly helpful Jun. It was the truth that he was only doing this because he wanted to get on your nerves somehow.

"She drank something the sixth years gave her and now she’s drunk. I don’t know what she drank though,” he replied.

It was surprising that a situation like this would arise for a Hufflepuff. Nevertheless, you paid no mind to them conversing. You could feel Jun's eyes penetrating through you as you shied your eyes to the ground that was far more interesting than what they were talking about. The drunk girl let out yet another groan of disobedience.

"Stop, Momo," Joshua said sternly.

Without a second after his words, you felt yourself being thrown forwards. Pushing back Junhui's hand, your jaw clenched. It took everything in you to keep your mouth shut from the words you wanted to spew out.

"Y/N here happens to be an alcoholic at a young age—"

"I am not!" you interrupted at the out-of-proportion lie. You only drank a couple of times and he knows it was for family events. The snarky smile on his face made you want to punch him.

“What I’m trying to say is she’s good at sniffing out drinks, why don’t you let us in and we can help you out?" Jun suggested casually.

Jun was in big trouble for sure. Any second now and he was going to find himself in a headlock.

"I don't know....that's not allowed." Joshua's chin tilted downwards, rejecting Jun's offer.

At least the goody-two-shoes himself wasn't letting you in anyways.

“Yeah, Jun.” you pressed, glaring.

Jun spoke up though, “Oh well, it’s your loss, really, Hong. You’ll have no idea what went into your friend’s body and you’ll have to go to the teachers and ask them if she has some kind of reaction. And won’t that be an embarrassment for you to have to tell, as Head Boy, that your underclassmen were messing around with alcohol under your nose? But I guess, it’s your decision.”

Junhui being snappy instead of being full-on aggressive was a rare scene, meaning that he was farming a lot of force to embarrass you. Of course, he was. Sometimes your misery was his happiness.

Joshua's stare followed to the ground, yielding you relief that you weren't going to deal with him or the drunk girl. You felt a little bad for her but anything for your rep, right?

"He doesn't want us, let's go." You grabbed Junhui's wrist and dragged him down the hallway without another look. After this, you planned on having an early night so that you would have enough energy for tomorrow's practice.

“Joshua, please. I want to see Dahyun, I have to apologise to her. She’s the only reason I’m living. I—"

“Fine.” His voice stabbed in the hallways and it was plain that Joshua was aching in the drunk girl's antics. Chills ran up your body unexpectedly. He did not agree, did he?

"You heard our boy, Y/N." Jun reversed your positions, grabbing your hand instead to drag you down the hallway excitedly. A million-dollar smile was cemented on your best friend's face and dumbfoundedly, you were led by him down the hallway, helpless to understand it. There was no way Joshua, the Head Boy and Prefect and above all, Hufflepuff was letting you into his dorm.

You clung onto Jun's hand for dear life, his clutch so loose that he would probably let you cluster to the ground if he were to let you go.

Momo's half-shut eyes blinked into yours, reaching you right in the abdomen. She was drunk, you didn’t know what went into her body. What if it was poison? What if something horrible happened to her? God damn it.

You couldn't leave now.

Her eyes would haunt you forever then. This wasn't for Joshua, it was for her. The sudden change of heart was noticed greatly by Jun as you swayed his grip off of you. As much as you were doing this, the touch of men, you were disgusted by.

Joshua told his password in front of you and got in with the girl and with you and Jun following. Neither you and Jun were scared of basically infiltrating another house's dorm being rebellious students already but the way Joshua was worrying his lip between his teeth didn't pass you.

His lips are so plump—oh my God, what the hell am I thinking?

Your eyes widened at the side of his face, ensuring Momo that everything was going to be okay. That's how you were able to see his lips perfectly, excluding the gloom cast atop the dormitory. The thought shook you on the inside, you disliked it. Why would such a thought pass you, in the first place? Were you losing control?

“Guys, calm down. They’re just here to help Momo out. There’s no need to look at them like that. Seungkwan, take her.” Joshua announced to the many eyes staring back. You felt no astonishment to them.

A boy walked out and helped Joshua wrap an arm around Momo and bring her to comfy armchairs by the fireplace.

“If this keeps happening, we’re going to have to discuss with our companies—I mean, school. I mean, school. Why the hell did I say company?" Seungkwan patted her head slowly as she lulled her head on his shoulder without a care in the world.

"Where's the drink?" Jun asked from your side.

Joshua picked up a glass from a small table in front of him. He passed it to you. The remains of the drink were still evident on the bottom of the glass and you hoped hard that no one changed the glass while you were gone. You looked at the remains for a second before sniffing the drink, the smell already familiar to your nose.

"It's just regular ale, nothing bad will happen to her," you declared.

The tension in the air dispersed. Joshua exhaled with relief as you put the glass back onto the table.

"Let's go," you said to Jun, whining slightly. The longer you stayed in here, the more you wanted to die from embarrassment.

"Um, excuse me?" Joshua asked you and the desperation in you grew. Did he not understand? "How do I, um..."

"Sober her up?" you questioned. The yellow started to feel like a perpetual blot to the eyes and a steadfast reminder that he was within few feet of you.

You reached into your robes quickly and pulled out a vial that was the size of your palm. You couldn't believe you were giving away your last vial, but there was no choice. Gazing at Momo as you pass the concoction to him, sorry flooded you. Poor girl—

"Just make sure that...she doesn't drink anything handed to her."

You couldn't hold back the tongue of empathy clawing you, tormenting you. The ends of Joshua's lips quirked up slowly and you couldn't help but know exactly what that meant. The nice boy in him was going to spurt with gratefulness. Deciding quickly that it was time to go, you grabbed Jun and turned to head down the way you came.

However, a persistent word of gratitude slipped from between his lips anyways. "Thanks, Y/N!"

Disregarding him, you were beholden to find your palm on the door with a very giggly Jun on your side. As soon as you were in the hallway again, you let Jun move away from you before you punched him harshly in the chest. Even though you were doing this for Momo, he was still to blame for dragging you into it in the first place and making you blink into her face and feeling sorry for her.

To your surprise, the boy didn't flinch at all.

You almost forgot. The Beast Beater, what were you expecting?

"What was that about?!" you yelled at him.

He threw his head back, laughing at the glower you had. Was it funny? Was it really entertaining to him that you were suffering? The boil in you was proceeding to the edge as a hand weaved through your robe. Your wand was seconds away from meeting your grabby and desperate hand.

"Just teasing you..." Jun said, waving his hand dismissively. He walked towards the Slytherin dorms. You followed him, still heated but you let go of the wand for the reason that you didn't want to hex him so bad that you would get into trouble. There you went with your rational conscience again. "But hey, he's not a bad lad, you know? You could do with someone like him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" If you were to know everyone in the whole wide world, Junhui would still be the person to hate Hufflepuffs the most. Overly to the extent that some of the bitterness rubbed off on you throughout the years since the two of you were practically inseparable.

“It means that you need water for your fire, an eggplant to your peach, a—"

"Jun, I'll hit you!"

He ran away before you could even get to him.

—

The Gryffindor teacher yet again had a lot to say. With a hand clutched onto the parchment with your excellent grade, you exited the class with heat radiating on your face. She had a problem with your continuous obsession—as the woman labelled it—with talking about her when her back was turned. You had no response for once because you had no idea she could hear you.

You could assume a student told her but then again, she's McGonagall.

You let out a sigh, looking down at your Transfiguration test.

"Good job on the test though. You must've studied hard, L/N."

You pushed the test down, unable to look at it as you strode the halls with quick, angry steps. Was there a second where you weren't mad? It was a side of you that was always growing whether you liked it or not.

It relinquished within a second when you found the show of a familiar figure by the entrance of the school. She peeked her head out tentatively before rolling her heels back in the shadows, tending her back against the wall. Her eyebrows knitted in.

You walked up to Lia suspiciously, crossing over a bunch of first-year Gryffindors who let you go first. They whispered harshly to each other in what you could assume was talk about the person you were. Not that it mattered—everything was interesting to the first years.

You were curious about Lia's behaviour since she was meant to be at practice right now and not wandering around the castle.

"You're supposed to be at practice."

She jumped, her hands flying to her chest. "Oh, it's just you."

"What are you doing here?" you asked.

Lia avoided your eyes.

"Well, tell me." you pressed on.

"Ugh, fine," she groaned, stamping her foot on the ground. "I fake-confessed to Eric because it was a dare from Ryujin and now he thinks I'm for real. He won't stop talking to me, even during class. It’s so annoying."

She scanned your face for your reaction.

"Why would you do that, stupid?" you said, holding in a small giggle.

Lia smiled a little subsequent to your light heart towards her reason. "I don't even know. I just wanted to prove myself, I guess...but! It's whatever now. I can go with you, Captain."

She linked arms with you, notwithstanding another second and led the way through the exit of the castle. The breeze felt a little heavy. It was an overcast day, murk weaved in between the students on the late Wednesday afternoon. It was an exhausting week already and for the students to keep going felt like a burden in the disguise of an obligation.

Lia glimpsed down at your test paper on your other hand.

"Ninety-five per cent?" she questioned, an impressed hum leaving her. "I thought you hated McGonagall."

"I do. But I have parents to make proud of," you answered, walking uphill.

"Don't all Slytherins?"

The slash of green and red from a distance didn't allow you to continue your conversation with Lia. As you were on top of the hill, you could see the anger on Ryujin and Sunwoo's faces, sensing something was wrong as they were meant to be getting ready to practice.

"Gryffindors? But we booked the field!"

"That we did, kid, but we know that Bradley Ainsworth is a little persistent, isn't he?" you dangerously chided under your breath. You drew Lia with you as you stomped determinedly downhill and towards the merged teams in an obvious fickle.

But something else hit you as you got there.

"Where's Jun?" you asked.

"He's in detention," Yuna replied to you prior to looking back at the Gryffindor Captain."We already booked the field. You guys can’t just come and interrupt our practice time like that.”

It was impressive that she could talk like that even though she was only the assistant manager. You felt proud that you taught your managers well and not to take shit from other people.

"No, you didn't. Check again. We booked it today and swapped you out for Sunday." Bradley looked at you with a smile.

What a pain to look at.

You felt your frustration reach its peak.

"Are you kidding me?! No, you didn't!" you shouted as you ditched Lia's hand aggressively. The test paper in your hand was getting scrunched with every second of your talking.

"Hoshi," Bradley demanded, smirking. Their Chaser, Hoshi, picked up a piece of paper that was apparently worth millions and above all, proving his point. Indeed, you were swapped out for Sunday, but that would mean no break for your team on the weekend. You would already spend four hours practising on Wednesdays and Saturdays. For you to practice eight hours over the course of two days would take a toll on all your bodies.

"Ainsworth, you can't just do this stuff without telling me!"

"I'm sorry, L/N. But we have practice to get to," he said and was about to leave.

“Stop. Because you know that you’re not supposed to book the field out on my day unless you have special permission! This is absurd.”

"Absurd, she says." Fred and George mimicked and Hoshi laughs loudly.

Bradley was going to get it from you today whether he liked it or not because you weren't a fan of letting you and your team not practice when they were all already changed.

"Ainsworth, I suggest kindly that you all leave the field before I tell Snape about this and land you all in detention. Oh, and won’t that be your fifth detention from Snape this quarter? Doesn’t that mean a suspension?”

He pursed his lips tightly. As expected, all Gryffindors had intimidation towards Snape as a teacher. You never fully understood it until you actually came to Hogwarts where he treated his own house better than any other house.

“Wait…why don’t we ask outside our own perception of this…um,” Bradley looked around nervously. You scoffed, finding this aspect of him different from how he usually acted. He would act all high and mighty all the time, he walked like he owned Hogwarts, he was such a tryhard with girls too.

You smiled back at your team.

Until he did something unexpected.

“Hong! Get over here!”

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. You hadn't seen Joshua Hong in two whole days and you were praying not to have to bump into him. But there he was, walking around with Momo, supposedly going to the lake.

“You are so not asking a Hufflepuff right now,” Sunwoo stated as Joshua and Momo walked over. She was looking a lot better today, you noted.

“Do you see any other alliances Slytherins have?” Bradley asked.

He was foul-mouthed and the steam of outrage touched the edge. You whisked out your wand, bringing it near his button nose. Bradley froze, brazen words leaving his mouth one second ago, all disappearing within the nanosecond. Kevin immediately pushed your hand down before things got too violent. You breathed out sharply, glaring at the Captain of the opposing team.

“You can’t just speak to our Captain like that!" Ryujin shouted at him, furrowing her eyebrows.

Bradley let out a small chuckle. “Oh, wow. Your team actually respects you, L/N. I remember what happened last time when you got—“

Triple homicide—Eric’s fist met with his abdomen, Tzuyu kicked him right in the knees and George, surprisingly, kicked him from the back. It was unexpected he was defending you but you appreciated it regardless.

Bradley fell to the ground, his eyes widened at the abrupt fighting. Your fist was shaking as you drew it back, rubbing it slowly with the other. Tears threatened to follow down your face from the shock.

You never really got over it...he had no title talking about you like that, you had no control over what happened then. The way his team didn't say anything and the twins glaring at him for his actions proved that he deserved it.

"What was that for?!” he had the audacity to ask

“How could you bring that up here?! You are seriously an asshole if you think we’re not going to do anything about this!" Tzuyu yelled at him.

Joshua held a hand out at the fallen Captain to your astonishment. "Calm down, the two of you. Why are we yelling here?"

Momo pulled Joshua back, letting the Gryffindor fall back to the ground with a thud. Joshua was persistent, pushing back Momo with a shoulder shrug. You felt like you should've punched him too.

“Joshua, stop—"

“No, I’m not going to stop! It can’t just suddenly be okay for her to push Ainsworth just because she wants the field.”

Tzuyu placed a hand on your shoulder, an attempt to calm you down but all you could do was push it off as a tear slid down your face. Joshua's mouth fell agape slightly at the sight. It was like he could capture every detail of you. Then he should've known what he was sticking up for, especially when it was about you.

“So it’s okay for Ainsworth to bring up how I got sexually assaulted in front of everyone?! Wow, thanks, Joshua. I can really see which side you’re on.” You left with tears, not wanting to see his face again, although, his eyes intruding when you ended your first sentence was stuck in your head. The amazingly graded test paper flew from your grips too, abandoned on the grass.

“Good job, Hong. Good fucking job.” Ryujin spoke up and you apprehended the steps of your team following you, guarding your back against a backstab you didn't expect from a person who pleads his case of crushing on you.

Was it all a lie?

—

"Where is she?" you heard Jun ask from outside the bathroom.

“She’s in there,” Eric answered and there was a moment of silence. You basked in it, letting the girls cling onto you like you were spending your last few moments with them. In truth, the younger ones didn’t know what was going on at all but Tzuyu and Ryujin knew for sure. Tzuyu was on the team at that time which was why she was the prime caretaker when Junhui wasn’t there.

The tears just wouldn’t stop—not even when Wonyoung was wiping them away, not even when Lia was stroking your back with her soft palm, not even when Yuna was holding your hand and not even when Ryujin was laying on your shoulder. Until, of course, the door burst open with the presence of the Beast Beater.

The girls jumped in surprise.

“What did bloody Ainsworth say to you?” Jun asked, showing no action to the girls. His eyes were stuck on you defensively.

“It’s nothing, Jun.”

You didn’t understand how vulnerable you were at that moment.

Jun’s fingers reached his temples in frustration before he grunted. He walked over to you and the girls, letting his hand reach the shoulder that wasn’t occupied with your Seeker. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there but I’m here now.”

His genuineness closed the crevice where your tears poured mercilessly—you felt enlightened by Jun and in no doubt were you going to handle the circumstance yourself as you did before. You were going to talk.

Looking at the girls hopefully, they caught the message.

“We’ll be guarding the entrance, okay?” Yuna said.

You nodded, the weight of them leaving you in a matter of seconds. They left through the tattered dark door of the second-floor lavatory in an orderly fashion, Lia peeking over at you, her eyes smiling at you lovingly. You nodded at her. She smiled and then closed the door behind her, enabling privacy between you and your best friend.

“Now, explain everything,” Junhui said, putting his hands on his hips.

You sighed, then, you explained everything. In full detail. He nodded, taking in your words as this was the first time that Wen Junhui wasn’t at the scene of the crime. Actually, second because of the time with Joshua at The Great Hall, he was slumbering in the dorms. Junnhui listened carefully unto you told him what Joshua said.

“Hong did that?!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, he did that.” you sniffled, the tears about to come back. You were about to lose it, remembering his eyes and the understanding that hit him then. Again, it was on Joshua, himself. He messed up, you couldn’t go around feeling bad for him. But you felt so bad when he realised. He was only trying to diffuse things and not let anyone get hurt.

But he didn’t have to glare at me like that.

“He was defending him all it was worth. I’m just disappointed,” you told Jun.

“Why?!” he questioned.

“I mean, I helped him out and he just accused me of something. He doesn’t even know how shitty of a person Bradley is,” you told him.

“I’m more worried about Bradley. I think we need to show him what Slytherins are about.”

You knew exactly what that meant but you didn’t want him to do anything bad that would result him in getting in trouble.

“Don’t get in trouble for me.” you smiled through a blurry sight of Jun.

“What else can I do?”

—

“This is your final warning. Next time, I’ll actually murder you..” Jun pushed him again against the sacks of flour behind him. It was impressive how he was madder than you about this. You admired his attempts in beating Ainsworth up and you also admired his bloodied knuckles with his fine set of rings which were inherited from his great grandfather. Jun bounced back, tilting his head to the right, a crack heard clearly in the room of working House Elves.

They paid no mind to you guys beating him up, they were profoundly focussing on their work for making dinner for the thousand students that attended Hogwarts. In fact, you were sitting on one of the benchtops, enjoying a tall glass of milk and iced cookies made by the elves for you. It had been long since you knew that Dumbledore had House Elves working beneath him than the food being magicked up itself. It was an easy way for you to beat Ainsworth up in here because you threatened the elves that if they were to tell anything to old man Dumbledore, they would find themselves in a little accident—or more or less, a kitchen fire. Not that Dumbledore would ask them anyways, you would make sure that Ainsworth kept his pretty mouth shut about this after.

“Do you think it’s funny to make fun of someone’s trauma?” Sunwoo yelled, kicking him right in the abdomen. This was beyond evil but he didn’t leave you with any other choice. Ainsworth was there when you were ushered into the hospital wing for immediate care, he watched you with his eyes that were half-awake because of the drug you were under.

Tzuyu bent down to her knees into a squat, grabbing Bradley by the collar. She pushed his face into his and smirked. “It hurts now, doesn’t it?”

Bradley whimpered.

“God, that was hot.” Junhui cleared his throat.

You all looked at him expectantly. He rubbed his knuckles in his other hand, looking at the details of the ceilings, far from realizing that you were all looking at him. Excluding, Tzuyu, who just slapped Bradley in the face. He looked back at you and you beamed slowly. Did he like Tzuyu?

“W-What? I said it was hot in here, you know? Because—”

He was so dumb, it was literally freezing in the kitchen, you didn’t know how the elves wielded in such harsh living conditions. You shook your head and then joined Tzuyu down on the floor, squatting right in front of Ainsworth. Holding him up by his blonde locks, drenched in sweat and little specks of blood, you smiled at him. You already had your time with him before, in fact, you were the first to land an excellent kick in the groin.

“Now you know to not mess with me again, we’ll leave you to tender your wounds, how about that?” you asked, crinkling your eyes as you smiled at him. You stuffed a cookie into Bradley’s bloody mouth as he whimpers in fear. You patted his cheek gently, his eyes exhaustingly peeking into yours. “Guys, let’s go now.”

“Righty-o, Captain.” Eric began making his way through the gaps between the short countertops made especially for the elves. You followed through, a satisfied feeling closing you with a breath of relief. Sunwoo opened the door for you, letting you go first as a way to show his pride in your wondrous bravery.

You wished you didn’t go.

The smile that was on your face disappeared within a second. You relaxed your face and walked towards the left, a dire desire to leave.

“Please, Y/N. Let me explain myself—”

“How many times are you going to apologize, Joshua? Actually—how many times are you going to mess up? You know what? Don’t even talk to me. If I look at you any longer, I’m actually going to start feeling sorry for you.”

Joshua’s eyes were big and sad, “I—”

Jun pushed him with his shoulder, making it to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “You heard her.”

You turned around and walked off with Jun.

Guilt swarmed through you, you felt that you were too harsh, you knew that yourself. The sorry in his eyes were prominent, so prominent that they shouldn’t be ignored. He was genuine—it was an innate characteristic of the Hufflepuffs and he wanted to make up for his mistakes.

Why were you such a bad person?

He’s a Hufflepuff.

“God, is it bad that I feel bad?” you asked under your breath, moving Jun’s hand away from you.

He smirked, nudging you with his shoulder. Nevertheless, you appreciated that he kept his voice down as your teammates fitted nicely into their own conversations.

“Look at you being soft…no it’s not. He shouldn’t have reacted like that regardless. He basically minimized your problems.”

How, though? You wanted to ask. How did Joshua minimize my problems when he was only trying to diffuse the heated problem between Bradley and I and was trying to make sure that no one got hurt because, in truth, that was the best for all of us? Plus, he didn’t know about my circumstance, that’s not his fault.

The realisation of your self-acceptance of the situation only made you want to bang your head on the nearest wall.

—

When Ainsworth came through to Ghoul Studies class the next day, you had to bite back a smile that was coming onto your face. There was no Jun to nudge and talk to about how his fingers were cuffed in bandages.

“Oh, Ainsworth. What happened to you?” the teacher asked, a frown settling on her lips.

“He fell off his broom during practice. It’s horrible, isn’t it?!” one of his many fangirls asked the teacher. You put your hand on your mouth, seeing how dejected his excuse was. So that was the excuse he gave to others? Ainsworth didn’t acknowledge you at all, taking a seat rows in front of you so that he couldn’t see your face.

You leaned back against your chair and smiled to yourself slightly for the rest of the class. When the class had finished, you were off on your feet swiftly to find Jun. But there was no seeing him come out of his Transfiguration class at all. You decided to pop in, at last, seeing McGonagall packing her things up with her wand. You couldn’t hold back your words at your least favourite teacher.

“Using magic for selfish needs, hm? You’re always telling us not to do that.” you scolded pretendingly, crossing your arms together across your chest. Her books nearly dropped her books down to the ground at you being in her class.

“Merlin’s beard, having you in this class four times a week is already a hassle but having you here for another day is just too much.” she sighed, shoving her wand into her robes. Abruptly, she smiled, causing you to do them. As much as you didn’t like her as a teacher, the woman reminded you of yourself at some times—the way she scolded students and her comebacks that were so blazing. They almost proved you wrong too but if it wasn’t for your own cunning remarks, you and McGonagall wouldn’t be in this puddle of disagreement and sharp words that pricked your flesh like a broken mirror.

And not to mention, there was a point in time where you were close to her. A dark time for you.

“Mr. Wen, I presume?” she asked you, walking out of the classroom. You followed her towards the door, getting there before her so you could open it wide for her. She had some things in her hands. “Thank you.”

“Of course, always. Where is he?” you asked. “Or did he skip again?”

“Ah, not this time.” the teacher told you. “I let the class go a minute earlier so I assume that he’s already feasting in the Great Hall. Very fidgety, something to tell him? Confess?”

“Oh, professor!” you exclaimed, putting your wand that you were playing with into your skirt. The teacher’s smile was not to abstain, she was undoubtedly amused at your behaviour, although, she got the wrong message. You were only excited to tell Junhui the message of Ainsworth behaviour in class that was amusing. “It’s nothing like that! Jun…please.”

“Well, the two of you seemed to be very close. One could only think so,” She was going to turn right and meaning she was going to the staff room because of the number of books she had. “Eat well, I’ve got to go drop these books.”

You couldn’t believe you talked to her nicely after these past two years.

You nodded. “You too. Bye, professor. Have a good day!”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Though, there was no regret in them, only slight embarrassment that you would be soft around the Gryffindor. Oh, you couldn’t help it. She’s done many things for you, you could only do the bare minimum. McGonagall’s face softened. She didn’t say anything back, so you turned around and kept walking down the hallway, the aroma of food filling your nostrils quickly.

“L/N.”

You whipped your head at her. She was rooted in the same spot, her hands holding the books as if she was going to put them on the floor right then. There was an unreadable expression on her face that even you couldn’t decipher for the life of you. It was like McGonagall was questioning everything at that moment until she covered the look with a smile.

“Yes, professor?”

“If you ever need to talk again, I’m always here for you.”

You blinked a couple of times.

The nights of crying in her office were soon brought back, clenching your heart tightly. That was two years back but it felt like a lifetime away from the warm sense of her office. She was so kind to you and all you’ve been was a rude student.

You still remembered not being able to sleep and going to hers or Snape’s office to sit there for a while just to bask in their safe presences before they would accompany you to the dorms again. It was crazy how you let it all go like it was nothing when in truth, every moment filled you with delight that someone was there for you besides Jun.

And then, you looked at her for the house she was in. That she was just a Gryffindor, that she was not worth your care or respect.

It was a betrayal at its finest.

“O-Of course, professor. I’ll see you tomorrow for class.” Your heart pulled itself as you stepped away, walking towards The Great Hall, the aroma no longer satisfying your senses. Instead, all you could do was drown in sorrow. That was the first time in years that you spoke to the woman like another human being. You still remember being in Dumbledore’s office the day after it happened.

FLASHBACK

“How can you let this happen, Professor Dumbledore?! How could you let such an occurrence happen to my daughter?!” your mother yelled as you held your father’s hand tightly. It felt like shame in there, you felt as if this was all your fault. Being sexually assaulted earned this trauma on you—one you couldn’t decipher then, but all you knew was that the worst came out of it and it brought the weakest side of you out. You hated it and you hated everyone. There was the thought that it could happen again.

“I apologise dearly, this shouldn’t have happened at all,” Dumbledore spoke calmly.

“Is this how you always handle situations like this, professor?” Jun’s father asked.

“Putting him in juvenile and serving time in Azkaban for a few years is not enough for you, Mr Wen?” Dumbledore questioned. “I have expelled him, he has no future at all now.”

“Her Quidditch Captain raped her and now you’re not offering anything to her. Counselling is the least you can do.” your mother yelled again. Tears pricked her eyes, drowning your heart in your stomach. Seeing her cry took a toll on you, one that felt like the worst burden in the world. You grabbed her wrist and pulled her to sit down beside you. It was quiet for a second.

The night was cold on October—it was evidently fall and the hushed breeze let in by Dumbledore’s window aroused the hairs on your skin to come to standing.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t protect you.” Your mother’s hands shook as she held your face. It was sadistic—the way that guy was making you all feel, the trauma he put you and your family through. An empty hole formed inside of you, destructing you painfully slow. The sobs that reeled from you didn’t feel enough. Nothing would feel complete, nothing felt right.

“It’s not your fault, Mum.” Your hand weakly grabbed hers as you looked into her eyes. She simply pulled you into her chest, letting the two of you sob. She knew how broken you were from it because for once, you were genuinely crying sad tears in front of her. “It’s not your fault, don’t cry.”

“I know but you didn’t deserve that. At all. You’re the sweetest girl I know and you got—I can’t even think how traumatic that could’ve been.”

“It is truly such a thing nobody deserves—getting their body taken advantage of without permission. I am extremely sorry you have to receive such pain, Ms L/N. We have offered your daughter counselling. She has rejected it kindly.” Dumbledore continued.

“You rejected it?” your father asked. “I demand you go.”

“Dad, I can’t,” you said, looking back at your father. Talking about it would only make you feel pressured and labelled.

“I don’t care, Y/N. You have to go—”

“Don’t force her. She doesn’t have to go if she doesn’t feel comfortable.” your mother said. “But—you have to, at least for two weeks, okay?”

Your breath hitched in your throat but you nodded. You had to do it for her and maybe, you might be able to cure. You had hope.

“I assure you Madam Pomfrey will take great care of her,” McGonagall told, nodding at your parents with a small smile.

“I hope so, Minerva or else I’ll have to be filing a complaint to take Hogwarts down.” Mrs. Wen started. She was definitely a force not to be reckoned with, she was powerful among the Ministry of Magic. Even in her own house where she demanded what she wanted when she wanted it. You’ve witnessed it yourself.

“Also, the teachers are always here so don’t feel burdened to go tell them what you’re feeling at any time.” Dumbledore told and your family seemed to have taken that bit a bit too seriously.

—

“Severus, I don’t care what you think but you need to be taking extra care for her. My daughter is everything to me.” your mother said.

“You have my word, Mrs L/N. I will watch over her, no doubt.”

“We’re serious, we’re depending on you for her journey to better mental and physical health—oh, come on, Severus. Look at what that boy did to her, look at her bruises.” your mother pleaded.

You stayed silent like she had told you to be.

“If you are asking me to take special care of her, I, unfortunately, cannot do that for you. She is like any other student to me, I—”

“Please. Give her some lack for a few months and take good care of her. I assure you that’s all she needs.” your father interrupted, his eyes glowing.

Your bloodline ran with Slytherins and above all, your parents and Snape went to school at around the same time.

Snape looked over at you, his cold eyes unfailingly bringing light into you. They had convinced him.

“Don’t worry about her.”

FLASHBACK ENDED

You roamed the halls with the reminder of those days, your shoulders weighing heavier than a minute ago.

“Hey! Hey! Wait! Wait up! Pretty Slytherin Captain, WOAH—!” A scream rang through the empty hallway. Before you could turn to see who it was, they thudded into you on the left corridor, causing you to almost knock over to the ground.

“Man, what the—”

You stopped when your eyes met with Hirai Momo’s.

“What do you want?” you asked, putting on your blank face. Momo seemed jumpy, considering your thoughts into if she was drunk or not. There was no scent of alcohol this time so it gave it away. You were wondering what she was doing here instead of being at The Great Hall where she would be with him.

“I just- I just—damn, that was a long run,” she said, puffing out large breaths as she located her hands on her knees.

“Alcohol damages the lungs.” you slipped out smartly but you didn’t expect her to let out a giggle at your words.

“Thank you for that by the way. Sniffing my drink.” Momo stood up fully, something folded in her hands. Her smiled weaved you in like a distraction.

“I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” you said, shrugging.

“Uh, I don’t really remember, remember?” she laughed, an attempt to reduce the tension in the space between the two of you.

“Why are you here?” you asked straight away.

“Right!” She passed you the folded parchment but it hung from her grip as you didn’t try to take it from her. You found it a waste of time to be talking to her when you knew exactly what it was. Could he have been dumber than to think you would accept such a thing?

“What is this? An apology letter from Joshua?”

She laughed again. “Oh my God, no! It’s your test paper! You dropped it the other day. Although, an apology letter would be too far.”

You were enlightened, grabbing the parchment at your wrongness. You didn’t expect a Hufflepuff to be so easygoing—but since when did you know? Just now. Thanks to the fact that you never mingled with others in different houses. Even those who opened their hands for you. Like McGonagall.

You never realised how much of a pain-in-the-ass you were until that moment. Momo treated you kindly and you refused to even look into her eyes for a second longer because it made you seem weak. It did not. You were just discriminative of other houses.

“I agree,”

“Honestly, I thought you would be scarier to approach than this. Was everyone lying to me?” Momo asked, her smile brighter than the Sun. The way her eyes crinkled made you think that she was in fact completed of natural beauty.

“Yeah, well, I need to go tell my team to jump on you for even thinking about talking to me after this. So don’t be surprised when it happens,” you told as you folded the test paper. You slipped in into your Ghoul Studies textbook, silence flying from Momo’s side. You would sort it out later when you go back to your dorms.

You wondered why and then you realised what you said. She had to have been scared.

“Joking,” you said blankly and then continued walking down the hallway. The girl followed you, laughing.

“Please. I thought I made the biggest mistake of my life, I was so scared!”

“Yeah, your soul left you.” you agreed without an expression.

“It felt like it…! Hey, I just wanted to apologise—“

“For what?” You looked at her dead in the eyes. She didn’t falter one bit.

“Come on!” she exclaimed, dropping her smile as she stamped her foot charmingly on the tiled floor. “What Joshua did was so not cool! You know, he doesn’t shut up about you in the dorms but he doesn’t even know the inkling details about you?!”

Your stomach felt like it was full of butterflies—something you took seriously. Because when Momo said that, you didn’t feel like yourself. You heated up at the thought of him talking about you a lot.

“I tried to stop him that day but he was such an idiot and—“

“I know, I saw,” you interrupted her.

“I just hope you know, he’s extremely, super-duper sorry and I’m sorry that I didn’t slap him when he said that. He won’t stop looking at you from a distance and he’s just not himself these days.” Momo stopped at the entrance of The Great Hall, just at the side of the door so no one could see the opposite houses talking to each other. You respected her for doing so.

“Yeah, sure…he can come to me and apologise to me properly and I’ll think about it.” What a liar—you just want to talk to him again. No, I don’t—

Her eyes lit up. “Seriously?!”

“Does it look like I’m joking?”

“No, no! I was just making sure! Oh, thank God. I’ll tell him later tonight if I happen to bump into him, if not, tomorrow! Thanks so much!” Momo opened her arms.

You pursed your lips together. She quickly noticed, pulling her arms back together. “Right, you don’t do hugs. Ah! But thank you, I’ll see you around! Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Momo entered The Great Hall.

You tilted your head slightly, finding yourself going over the conversation in your head as you leaned against the brick wall. You felt light talking to the girl, she radiated the vibe that you could tell her anything and she wouldn’t judge you for it. You smiled. Maybe you should get to know the other houses and possibly, Joshua too.

And what the hell is this thing I have for Joshua? I know I am not falling for his ass.

—

He managed to weave into your dreams in the dead of a full moon night. How did your mind let it happen? It felt so calm and this dream soothed your mind into relaxation you never felt around the boy. It felt like the discrimination between Slytherins and Hufflepuffs didn’t even exist. Like you were away from the real world, just the two of you basking each other’s warm presence, fulfilling each other with comfort.

Joshua laid in your lap in a meadow of tall sunflowers, sun rays dawning on you two, too bright to be real. The two of you were sitting on a picnic mat with food set aside, seemingly have eaten already.

You couldn’t feel anything. No sadness was felt, it was like everything was going right for once in your life. However, there was a slight difference in you.

Scars...your old scars that used to make you feel disgusting. He took your hand and kissed them. One by one. Slowly. While smiling at you. And then, you shot up in your bed.

“Fuck—” You grabbed at your scalp. Sweat beaded your forehead as you frantically looked around your room, your heart racing from the dream. It felt so real, so real you had to look around to blink back the reality in front of you. The boy had easily milked his way into your dreams—how? How?!

You thrust yourself off your bed, quickly finding your slippers beneath on the dark oak floor.

“Ssh!” one of your roommates said in her sleep. You didn’t mind her, leaving the room immediately. You went down to the luxurious common room your dormitory had to offer. A few students were still awake, not to your surprise, other seventh years. You looked at the time. It was two in the morning.

You nodded in acknowledgement at one of the seventh years prior to leaving the dormitory. It wasn’t permitted, of course. But you didn’t care at this point, things were going too far. It seemed like even when you were trying to console yourself that this wasn’t real, that it wasn’t happening for real, the rush of the possibility of having feelings for Joshua would always beat it. Truth be told, you still had the slight anger for him because of what he had done in the past and that included the chocolate situation from the beginning. You didn’t like how he was so easygoing around you but then again, why did he need to be scared of you? You guys were classmates, he didn’t need to cower in your presence.

Ahhh! I don’t know! Why am I like this?!

The darkness welcomed you once again as you sauntered the hallways aimlessly. The coldness brought you in like a friend you didn’t like and you started to regret not wearing something to cover you. You were only dressed in a nightdress, silky and soft to the touch.

“Lumos,” you whispered, ignoring the harsh words from the prior-sleeping portraits. Your mind was finally clearing a little.

“L/N? Is that you, young lady?” a cold voice asked. You stopped in your tracks, feeling the hairs on your skin rise. You reached your wand outwards a little, meeting Snape’s face.

Screwed.

“You know the rules. No roaming after hours. Come with me to my office for your detention slip.” he said.

You sighed. “Come on, professor. You know me!”

“Minerva is in the next hall. It’s either you get it from me or receive multiple from her and points off the house.” he whispered,

You didn’t answer back, you just followed him to his office. Detention seemed to be no remedy to your problem, however, a walk to Snape’s office was one because you felt like your head was clearing even more. Maybe you couldn’t come to a conclusion to this cluster of feelings but you were at least feeling like you got fresh air in your lungs.

Even though a detention slip was now in your hands because of your careless actions.

You sat in front of him, the slightest feeling of dissatisfaction nagging you at the back of the head still. The thought of his lips on your skin kept playing on repeat in your head, an aimed loop to make you fragile.

“What do you think about a Slytherin falling for someone else who isn’t a Slytherin?” you asked suddenly. Silence occupied the space, Snape’s eyes sparkling into yours. His office already felt empty as it was with no fire lit up to warm it up and only moonlight shining inside. You were sitting in nearly utter darkness. “You know what—“

Snape sighed. “I obviously don’t get paid enough for this. How bad are we talking about this crush?”

You gasped. “Crush? No! It’s just— I had a dream that I and he were together and it’s really bothering me. It’s so weird of me telling this to a teacher, right?”

“You have no idea how many confessions I got from Pansy herself this week about her obsession with Malfoy itself. Who is the kid?”

You felt the inkling of curiosity from Snape.

“Joshua Hong...”

You expected no reaction from the teacher but he raised a brow and that in itself was a lot for you. It felt like he was really taking in what you were saying and you knew you were lucky to be on his good side. Though, a teacher is always a teacher. “A Hufflepuff? Hm, work out your own way.”

You weren’t going to get anywhere with this, especially with Snape. He was too closed off for your own good, you rather have a girl-to-girl chat about this with another teacher whom you were comfortable with. Though there doesn’t seem to be a teacher that you could talk about this to. Which is why you got up, letting the chair skid back a little.

“Fine, professor. Have a lovely night.”

You exited his office with the detention slip in your hand. “Lumos.”

Walking down the hallway, you felt a little heavier. The dream was still fresh on your mind and it messed you up so bad on the inside. Obviously, you were not used to this kind of dream, especially from a Hufflepuff. If the dream was rather about Jun or another Slytherin, the two of you would laugh about it. But the dream had to be about him. His lips, were so plump and soft when they touched your skin. It was like you could feel it.

Was it just admiration for his beauty? Was a question that remained unanswered. Although having his lips pressed against yours was something you wanted to feel too, did it answer the previous question?

A figure was walking down the hallway, causing you to shine your wand at the person. You gulped immediately. How was this even possible?!

You had to be seeing things!

Seeing him as a hallucination could also prove to be just as bad. But you didn’t want to believe it.

Joshua jumped back. “I’m only here to see Professor Sprout! I came here with permission!”

“Why the hell are you up so late?” you asked

Joshua was shocked least to say that you were standing there in front of him. You were too, you were also better at hiding it. He paused for a second, gawking into your eyes. Dressed in simple striped blue pyjamas, his black hair slightly tousled, you were brought back to your dream. His divinely heavenly smile, the way the sun sparkled in his eyes, how you looked at him like he was the entire world—

He avoided eye contact as you welcomed his sincerity through. Joshua was just a package of sincerity in himself. He was not one ounce of bad blood but you treated him like he was.

“I had to deliver a complaint from a student…” he explained quietly.

“This can’t be a coincidence.” you pressed on. You didn’t mean anything bad when you said that, you were rather talking to yourself because of the dream you just had. His lips looked just like they did in the dream.

“Oh, come on, L/N. I’m not stalking you, okay, I just—“ You acted out of instinct, suddenly cornering him against the wall. You forced your eyes to look at his pretty face, letting the butterflies come in and settle in your stomach. There was no way you had him cornered against the wall right now but you had to see this for sure.

“it seriously can’t…this really can’t be.”

Joshua was red under the grip of your wand as he looked to the side. It was like you were contradicting what you said earlier about him touching you. But you could tell Joshua Hong liked it from the redness of his face and his completely relaxed figure against the wall. So you continued.

You pushed a knee beside his left thigh, locking him in place.

“I’m not—“

“Be quiet,” you whispered, drawing his face closer with one hand, examining it in full detail. Whether this was a hallucination or not, you only started accepting the fact that this boy was actually pretty. Your heart was speeding just looking at his face. You forgot about the problems you had with him as your eyes followed his nose, lips, hair and back to his eyes, all defined and sculpted by the heavens to fit him. If someone had told you he was an angel from heaven, you wouldn’t question it one bit.

Finally getting a hold of yourself within the lost maze, you threw his face to the side, your fingers slightly piercing his cheeks. You moved off of him.

Joshua furrowed his eyebrows at you. “What was that about—“

“Your mum.” You left.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: u got to the end!!!

here's the poll as promised, i'll make my decision in 24 hrs

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